by Jane Ward

Created on: July 21, 2009

Miles of endless marsh in the grey morning light of a rainy December.

The small-town train putts along toward the city

And for just a moment

When the mist rises up off the flat earth just so

Twisting into shapes of endless possibility and dissipating back toward the horizon as if it had a tale to tell

The passengers-

watching the passing scenes through half-opened eyes and cluttered minds, clutching warm styrofoam cups for dear life because America run on Dunkin-

Half expect to see emerge from the grey

A little boy on an urgent errand,

Christmas pork pie in hand.

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