Train of days in the luxury of space,
a man lays tracks, wears a path
as seasons change – a woman, too,
rearranges rocks to fit her mood,
saves a place to live among all
the creatures that fly and crawl.
We learn their names. Even those
anchored to this earth remind us
of the grim and grand, the lasting
truth that ‘nothing stays the same’.
So we emulate without knowing,
learn their rhythms we wear as totems,
praise their names. And when the train
stops and the gods come out to sing,
we can join them in a familiar song.
drycrikjournal 