The Empty Train

Sometimes the sunset wheels

Of the empty train roll slowly

As a harmonica song-

Lilting us backward in

A summer sonnet

Of lavender fields-

Yellow bonnets, busy farmers.

Our tall engine steaming through

The country shadows

Of wooden swings and fishing ponds.

Cotton dresses and double moonshine,

Broken porches and hungry cows.

We see blue jays out

The windows now-

And kites in every tree.

And- I think if we go fast enough

We, too, will all be free…

(C) Copyright Anastasia Clark. All rights reserved.