first train of the day
steam rising from passengers' mouths
into still-frosted winter air
as we wait on the platform,
exchange good mornings,
jostle a bit to find our way
on board (not
much, this
is not exactly tokyo)
then, I find my little slice of heaven:
a table, a window, a quiet car.
a little rumble,
the train shudders,
stutters forward
and we go
all I hear is muffled voices
of other riders, the whistle
sounding impossibly distant
watch familiar waters,
familiar fields
(mist rising above silver, then
ploughed, furrowed green brown
glimmering with dew,
crowded with resting
muddy ducks,
brilliant white seabirds)
approach, then recede
as if they were the ones
on the move
