Train’s tracking north,
when he spots barren trees,
feels an ancient pang
- missing a special child.
Even disconnected – like the coldest
winter twigs - he hangs on – and hopes
another summer lifts and melts the ice
on hard converging tracks.
Alone, in time and space,
one glance of hares in spring,
the sound of a child laughing,
could dissolve his eyes
and turn rails - left and right -
– out, away – and back - into a beating
heart.
