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Hopping a Freight Train in Wheeling

The freight train puffs a veil of smoke into the night. The iron rails rumble. Be still. Now. There it is, the engine's call, fading To the distance. Between shadows, a lean figure grips tight to the rolling steel, His pack worn low on his back, and now he's gone Wholly, into the night. I stand alone by the coal yard, I do not dare speak Or move. I listen. The train bends away into its own darkness, And I lean toward mine.

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Sotto Poet

Date: 4/22/2024 10:35:00 AM

The ephemeral nature of human bonds and the accompanying loneliness is well captured in your poetry, Don. The contact with the strange man on the freight train is fleeting, and the whole thing centers on that one moment.

Sara Etgen-Baker

Date: 4/22/2024 9:07:00 AM

a felt some various emotions as I read your poem. First, there's something about watching a train moving down the tracks, its engine's call fading along with the puff of steam. I recently wrote 'train' poem but have not yet posted it. I, therefore, liked the symbolism within the train imagery punctuated with last two lines. Leaning into your own darkness -- powerful words and something we all do from time to time. An extraordinary poem! I liked it, Sara

Don Iannone
Date: 4/22/2024 9:12:00 AM

Hi Sara, thank you so much for reading and exploring my poem through your emotions. That's a great way to do it! This was actually a real story that my father had told me many years ago. He grew up in Benwood, West Virginia, just south of Wheeling, which was a railroad and steel mill town. Again thank you so much! Don.