train whistle blowing
on new year’s day
across miles of
falling snow,
soft and clean through
silent maples
I stand with a shovel
and breathe the
good crisp air
no geese today
the ice has come
the cold is deep
the wind an old voice
over the fields
sighing in the pines
I think of Guthrie
alone on the plains
and Dylan departing
the iron range
Pete Seeger John Prine
rough hands hobo songs
can’t say what it means
nothing probably
just a freight train rolling
on the long white earth.
good is good God is god.
happy new year.
© 2010
Recent Comments