Simple Sunday-Tepid Spring Noon

A tepid Spring noon found me scouting out sights

there the tracks, cool, steel rails, stretching

bending, leaning, leading

beckoning my curiosity, where?

Degrading timber ties whisper

tattle-tailing their age

while the stones lay unchanged

ancient, ageless, always

Contrasts against the work of man

laid with a purpose for an era past---

no locomotion now

only neglect, an end to a story

I discover, following  this now obsolete 

train trail, suddenly stops along with

my fanciful images of where

I stand with crestfallen abruptness

Tunnel of trees streams out of perspective

a ghost of a route once run

Stories start again, grow and float about

Passenger cars filled with folk

hoops, extravagant hats, button-up boots 

Stetsons, Justins, Colts

conductor with his pocket clock and punch

Steel wheels grooved to their steel line provides

a comforting click-clacking travel tune

going, moving, riding where?

Nowhere now, but a past place 

a destination dream I weave

on this tepid Spring noon.

CCB

6/19/2015

An Ekphrasis