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Observations From A Train

OBERSVATIONS FROM A TRAIN

From my window, the train moves ahead and back.
Like a silver snake, 
Sliding on a slippery track.
The outside world stands mute,
Changing, untouchable,
The white half moon follows
High, in the blue of the afternoon.

From my window, evidence of nature’s play.
A space scape,
Skinny fire blackened trees,
Brown, black earth.
The wind moves soundlessly,
The birds are gone.

Bridges span rocky river beds
That the sky has long forgotten.
Brahmin cattle, skin hanging
Like washing left on the line too long,
Raise heavy heads in sorry.
Gone the green, gone the joy,
Sucked back into the earth
And the the mother cries.

Rusty cars, silenced long ago,
Lie where they died.
Not returning to the earth,
Not returning anywhere.
Just there, forever.
Houses call from their decaying depth,
Who loves me. Who will sing to me?
The loose iron on the roof, cries no-one.

The skeletal dog, strains the frayed rope.
Windows dark and empty eyed, follow me.
Who sweats and dreams,
Loves and hates,
Sheds dusty tears as I move past?

From my window, the outside world stands mute.
I am caught in a time capsule.
Untouched by the heat and waste.
But the memory, ah the memory
Plays on through the night.
As I keep moving, always moving past.

Jenny Magrath

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