No Frozen Supper

NO FROZEN SUPPER The level crossing was closed long before; Ringing bells continued to say overdue It was a windy minus-ten wait for the 244. -Seen afar blocked in the traffic queue Idle as a painted ship frozen too soon; Crabs in shells or turtles ashore and repentant Under the smiling January moon. -Clear and resplendent Motionless for a half-hour unabating; Hot-breath abandoned fog machines waiting And stamping feet, home-hungry, muttering. -Nobody ate anybody - but it was a near thing Whistles pierced the air and trains rumbled out; Traffic moved, unlocked the jigsaw on the bus And a woman’s shivering sharp shout. -Wheels turned and returned all of us