trail

From the moving train a pair of eyes,

Saw a white trail running away;

From the middle of an unkempt meadow,

The grey trying to free away, from the heavy head.

Holes in the nose smell of cow dung,

Ears are full of sounds of wheels.

Body shakes and the mind flies,

It goes outside to find a way;

Clouds fall as snow as though,  

Cotton drops with words unread.

Moving to act, unseen unsung,

All at ease when it heals.

Where to build the surest den

Speakers in crowd shouting aloud;

It stops a little so we can plan,

Strangers around to comfort me,

Concealed thrills for times it went,

Of what it thought and what it meant.

Nothing’s known as I can see;

Nowhere to go, nothing to span.

My train’s name has made me proud,

Of a trail that fell on the grass again.