MONDAY: Commuter Train


Elizabeth Barnes has been writing poetry & prose for over 15 years. Copyright rests with the author.

The commuter train dawdles
held back by a signal to go slow
where it usually hurtles through
with no time to waste

I am for once not buried and busy in a book
and observe a laneway to the right
—too quickly the train passes—
a flash of green with
a line of water and
on this overcast morning
the marshy waters fingering the feet of the
white birches
waiting to inhale

and I am gone into that line of water
bound hand and foot
attached root and stem            leaf and blossom
to mounds of marsh marigolds
the train abandoned      left to tear
its busy business way
into the downtown core

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