It drew me out to the street, bare feet, pajama clad.
It didn’t matter, no one was there,
not even my neighbor’s yipping mongrel,
or her teenage son raging behind his wheel.

It was scent of winter rain,
you know the kind when air is full to its brim.
A slight chill hinted snow not quite ready to fall.

I paused under a yellow slivered glow
hooded in thin streaked clouds,
inhaled with such deep reverence
I lifted from my grounding.

In between seasons, as one couples to the next,
I am tilted off balance able to abrade infinity.

The Poet and the Morning Train

The train was late today, hypnotic with its slack return,napofeature3
tardy on tracks anticipating, making no amends.

I teeter up the steps into its Herculean mouth
and find my place among its captives dazed by morning sun.

Defiant winter clouds, away they rolled through darkened night,
the new-born spring now unconcealed shined upon our day.

And pulling from its temporary stall, a jerk, push back,
no gentle abdication there, I cache myself within

your book, a salve for wounds, escape from cynical minds. I
free myself from stifled rank and file gleaning your words,

ordain my mind to fields beyond, drown out the clack and
rumble. My ride runs out, I stand once more, depart to ground

inert. I dash to meet delays, ordeals not my own.
The train departs once more, still late. I plunge into the day.


Author’s Note:

Today at NaPoWriMo our challenge for National Poetry Month is to write a “fourteener.” Visit the page to read more about that!

Our writing group also met with prompt in hand. My blindly chosen prompt was as follows. An opening line and seven words to include:

#6. The train was late today and it was always early…


TADA! I combined the prompt with a “14er.” Please be gentle, I am recovering from the flu. 🙂