A Horn in the Distance

A horn in the darkness,

light and forlorn.

A horn in the mist

far away, yet sent here to warn.

A faint light flickers

on then off

then on again

as it passes by trees.

It is veiled by the mist

and then burns through.

Then comes the sound

a clickety-clack,

metal against metal,

sounds in the black.

With shrieks of scraping

and sparks orange, yellow, blue

floating up from underneath

Shining in the dew.

It crosses the river

on a trestle made

of wood, iron, and steel.

A trestle so high

a fall that could kill.

A trestle so old

it creaks

and buckles under the weight

and yet it holds

another day,

Its load will not be late.

The mighty monster makes its way

gently across the river

to safety

to the far side

across the way.

From out of the darkness

from out of the mist

from out of the fog it appears.

Steel, cold, black.

Blowing smoke from

out its stack

Like a mystical dragon of old.

The horn blasts

to give a call

a warning to anyone

a warning to all

I'm on the tracks

beware beware

but do we have

a reason to fear?

Behind our gates

of flashing lights

and diagonal lines?

No.

We sit

we watch

the rumbling roar

A moving art gallery.

Artists whose names

will never be known

and yet they are

across this land

shown.

And when the exhibition

has passed us by.

The gates are lifted

and on we drive.

And forward to its next repose

its next exhibition

upon this road.

The mighty steel dragon

carries its load

and where it's going

we are not told.

January 16, 2019