sara Etgen-Baker Poet Sestina

Notes About The Poem

image from bostonuncovered.com

poem submitted to "Wake Me Up When September Ends" poetry contest

Daniel Henry Rodgers, sponsor, August 15, 2026

September's Quiet Miles DHR

I wake to the low hum of wheels threading on the track,
watching dawn stretch itself thin through the window,
the world slipping by like a familiar station  
I’ve seen before but only in passing~
September fields fading gently in the distance
another quiet mile added to this long journey.

I’ve learned that every life becomes a single, continuous journey,
its rhythm shaped by the steady pulse beneath the track,
its understanding widened by years of gathering distance,
its tenderness framed by whatever light enters each window,
its longing stirred by the beauty of landscapes passing,
its heart awakened at every unexpected station.

I think often of the people who stepped off at some station,
leaving me to continue alone on this journey,
their voices lingering only in passing,
echoing faintly along the track,
glimmering briefly in the glass of the window,
before dissolving into the widening distance.

I’ve learned that memory stretches across distance,
reaching back to every long-ago station,
to every face reflected once in the window,
to every moment that shaped the journey,
to every truth laid quietly along the track,
to every tenderness felt in passing.

Now evening settles, the world dimming in passing,
and I feel the weight and wonder of the distance,
the way it sighs beneath the rails of the track,
the way it gathers at each approaching station,
the way it deepens the meaning of journey,
the way it softens the view through the window.

So I sit quietly, looking out the window,
letting the world move gently in passing,
trusting the unfinished shape of my journey,
trusting the quiet wisdom carried in distance,
trusting the steady pulse beneath the track,
trusting the truth waiting at the next station.

Envoy  
This journey stretches softly across the distance,
where each station glimmers briefly in passing,
and every window reflects the long hum of the track.

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