79. Moonlit Locomotion

The cross-country train chug-chugging through the dark
Is like a clattering serpent winding through the pines
Thundering across Washington, Idaho, Montana
Clearing firs of birds with a deep-throated whistle
Over bristled mountains and under hollowed hill
Pursuing a sunrise that never seems to come
To those unable to snatch two seats for one sleep
Those dark aisles filled with snores and uncomfortable positions
As the moon beats down its cool, silver-splotched rays
On that slinking beast barreling towards small sleepy stations
Lit by dim lampposts erected along the trailing track
Groggy passengers interchange with drowsy passengers
As the snow turns from black to white under faded light
And the Midnight Express bounds back into the wilderness
Heading for that daybreak that yet seems ages off
As I, the sleepy poet, stare out the window, breath fogging glass
And await those hours with tired eyes and contemplative mind.