Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Train Ride

Cold raindrop tears are sliding across the window,
blurring the bucolic Minnesota scenery:
barns and silos, trees and fences,
mournful fields of brittle cornstalks.
The cows, having grown weary of passing trains,
turn their horned heads absently away.

The sky has been grey now for over a week.
The rain had stopped once, during the wedding,
only to return and soak us all outside the church
waving farewell to the bride and groom.

They seemed to be such a happy couple:
she, with rosy cheeks and dimpled elbows,
floated in euphoria on the arm of her beloved
who, although red-faced from all the attention,
merrily grinned with all his teeth.

The world is looking brighter outside my window;
the sun has worked its way around the clouds.
We pass by golden fields of dancing wheat
rejoicing in the warmth of the widening sunshine.
The train pulls into the station at Hastings;
two more stops and I will be home.

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