Life’s Dusty Junctions


A long slow cry filled the air with thick grey soot, the train
still many miles away, soft bosomed terrain
carrying its call through hills and vales, a plain
clear note carried on the wind. Hear its long complaint

at another junction, another dusty lane
where journeys ramble through fields of yellow grain,
red dust and sky-high stalks of corn. Our ears strain
to the tune of the Burlington Northern. So strange

that our childlike hearts jump; we’re unrestrained
by the shrill of the engineer’s call, his sweet refrain
to our adventurous want to travel this strange
lineal sound through summer sun and winter rain.

We’ll follow a life, unconstrained, and we will reign,
a freer life beside the tracks – riding the trains.

Written for both Poetic Asides Day 14: Sonnet and Miz Quickly’s Prompts


26 thoughts on “Life’s Dusty Junctions

  1. At my home, I can hear a faint train’s call through the woods. When I first moved here (32 years ago) the train sound bothered me because it woke me at night. But I quickly got used to the sound and it no longer woke me. Now I love hearing it. Enjoyed your sonnet, Misky. I’m not sure I could write one.

  2. Nice one, Misky. We had an active track acoue a mile from us when I was growing up. I remember lying in bed on summer nights, open window, listening to the freight trans move through just around mid-night every night. A lonely sound the whistle and rumble kept me apprised of the time, whether I wanted to know or not. In the same way it was comforting.

    I like this. It brought back memories.

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