Waiting At the Train Station

Waiting At The Train Station by Edmund Siejka Not far away From the train station Is a distant river Deep Cobalt grey Churning it’s way between Snow covered banks. To the right Towering above the tree lines Is a Church Inside a priest Prepares for Sunday morning Mass Early light filtering in Through stained glass windows. I waited for an errant train Snow coming down quickly Cold becoming colder. In the train’s waiting room An old man sat down Bad leg stretched outward Cane by his good side Unbuttoning his top coat Saying “First hint of snow And everything slows down around here.” His words echoing in the nearly empty waiting room. A woman sitting at the far end Had that worried look That parents often have Her daughter, Really a child, Recited numbers From one to twenty In a voice as clear as an angel’s. The old man tilted his head to one side Listening Counting with the girl Tapping the cement floor with his cane. Outside the snow continued unabated Covering everything In heavy white So that even the tallest branches, Limbs outstretched, Knelt before nature’s might.