Moving On
Moving On
Youth, sits in the evening's orange light,
back against bark of a black cherry;
one of a fence of trees
that runs the railway line.
He senses the Texan desert heat,
loosening, lessening, uncoiling
while sharpened light spits
and sparks off his buckled belt.
He pulls close to the sound of a freight train,
working its way out into the desert,
Clunking, clanking in its heavy metal voice
while curious creations of tumbleweed
stumble and stroll alongside.
His imagination sways to the train's motion,
motivating his own thoughts of moving,
moving on to a better build of life.
Youth, stands on the precipice of adulthood,
dreaming of the glitter of a big city
where potential opportunities flicker
on street corners like neon lights.
The train now slips inside night's dusk,
sliding towards the ragged edges of the desert
where it performs one of nature's magic tricks ..
a swivel of metallic hips… and gone.
He now sits alone, colour minimal,
sound emptying into silence.
recognition nudging his memory
of drawing an education from the desert
but he now needed new pathways to tread.
Behind him, the horizon
slips slowly, sedately below itself
and night crawls towards him.
Youth, uneasy with dusk's, dark stare,
quickly stretches himself back home
while distant hills stride alongside;
cicadas chuckling in his slipstream.
In the wakefulness of morning
he knows the horizon will be back;
a line of encouragement, pulling him to
roads not yet taken; dreams not yet imagined.
Ian Souter
Copyright © Ian Souter | Year Posted 2026
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