Dawn

I love the sound
of a traveling train
piercing through
a dark night
just before
break of dawn.

How I love the waxing
and waning whistle,
the aggressive shuffle,
an announcer’s urgency,
a conductor’s playful song.

I love the sound
of a traveling train.
It’s a wailing, wingless bird
in fast-track flight flagging
last hour of ebony sky.

Ground noise is mighty
as connected cars
rattle and shake
like maracas cheering for
the soon to be born—
time refreshed,
a different day,
brand new morn.

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