one could write a poem
on a train tree-flickered
sunlight through a window
a scroll of maples
and some quaking aspen
soft rumble of metal
rolling over metal
tight fit of wheels
on track and the clack
where they connect
I close my eyes to the
dervish of green
the rhythm of vibrations
my head on a pillow
of late-morning
a blanket of Canada
pulled over me
as my train of words
breaks apart
and derails
off the tracks
of my mind
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