In Passing

At Lumsden Beach - a train across the valley

Seven days of each week,

trains rumble through valleys 

  over mountains,

   across rivers

     from rolling sea 

        to deepest ocean

         

carrying memories of

 waving at waving engineers,

   counting cars carrying passengers from there and faraway 

     counting cars carrying food and furnishings

       counting cars carrying fuel ~

waiting til they all pass   

  so I could wave

    at the man in the caboose ~

disappearing into the horizon

  disappearing like the steam engines

    disappearing like the last mournful whistle 

that drifts my memories away on a steam dampened breeze.

“Memory is the sense of loss, and loss pulls us after it.”

~ Marilynne Robinson, Housekeeping