train’s lonesome whistle
piercing through darkness and sleep
sharp longing for home
train’s lonesome whistle
piercing through darkness and sleep
sharp longing for home
shadows on surface
ripples, undercurrents, or
movements from above
that time of the year
when we lie in bed snoozing
‘til coffee is brewed
shrouded in dark fog
must trust the light of others
on life’s well-worn path
half-mile off highway
daybreak in an open field
turkeys foraging