On high-back benches
weary shoppers clutch their parcels
and slump.
Wrapped in a yellow green haze
Van Buren station sleeps
beneath Chicago's vibrant streets.
Outside, on wood-plank platform
we drink-in the coffee warmth
of October's fleeting sun.
"South Chicago, 23rd, 47th, 53rd, 57th"
Like some unraveling mass of I-beam steel
the tracks begin to rumble and shake.
The slant nosed Metra comes and goes.
Across the tracks in autumn plume
Grant Park displays her rows of golden elms.
A nor’ east wind dances bow upon bow,
with a gentle sway that shears away
a sifting rain of harvest leaves.
"Park Forest South, 23rd, 47th, 53rd, 57th"
On the slant nosed Metra
I hurry home.
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