The Train


Each morning, unless a coupling has slipped in Morganza, or

A hacker in St. Louis has tampered with the switching computer,

The train blows its whistle.


The whistle blows uselessly around 4 a.m.

Because nothing is moving at 4 a.m.

But it blows.  Once, twice, three times

It blows. 


The whistle is classic and loud. 

If I were asleep, it would not wake me, but

If I were awake and groping to embrace my day,

The whistle sounds thunderous, near, and comforting.


--April 14, 2013