Prairie Poetry   
  Night Train

Freight train rocking by,
groaning as it hits the joints
in the tracks sounding
like it’s bouncing
out of control-
As it blares its horn proudly
at the crossings, but now since
it’s so late, it bets
that there’s no folks out  there
and if they are, they are
liable to be drunk
with  too many LoneStars
to hear the lonesome whining scream anyway
or maybe they’ll just  take it
as a challenge to outrun
what they saw in the driver’s ed films-
So the horn is quiet-
as if its romping through
the heavy dark hours
is not gonna wake us up
anyway, but  it does and with a sigh
you just turn over and think in a fog-
wondering tonight if it is running late as usual-
and just how much more sleep
we can squeeze in before the alarm-
but sleep does comes again
as the windows stop
their rattlin’
and the dusty engine slips on by remembering
to turn off the reds as it passes
until the next wide spot
populated by tumbleweeds
in the middle of nowhere.

  Will Dixon
  Copyright © 2008 Will Dixon
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