Train

I have an engine in my head

It whistles in the peaceful hills terracing the beauty seen

Sending off plumes of smoke in the midday reverie

With my internal bell I grasp at snapshots

Sweeping fir trees parade from the valleys

Soldiering beneath the tracks

A pickled stream churns underneath rising tracks

Pinked salmon run the course with bubbling flight

The bridge to a granite cliff rattles with our progress

Heights sewn with the fabric of fear

Minutes lost with the axle

I wonder if momentum will cease

All stations vanished with the sunrise  

I am little more than a passenger on this journey

Breathing like the rest

In search of respite from desire

A soul longing for a station.