On the Train From Amsterdam To Brussels

Roosters gather in a parking lot, cackling and crowing. A man is bent over in a field, fixing his tractor. One long breath, a yawn, a wide field with horses, clusters of sheep beneath low trees. We fly along a creek, short stretches of fence, a dusty path, a boy on a motor scooter, a tunnel, blackness. A swan curls on a green pond, a construction site is only half complete, a windmill barely rotates in the misty sky. Swirling white butterflies dance in a meadow. I think I see kudzu in the overgrowth; I forget where I am. How can the Holland countryside appear so similar to the American South? I could stay on this train forever and always be happy.