Mouth Organ Dirge
by Odin Roark

Against the sky...

water tower stands,
trunk at the ready,
windmill atop squeaking,
memories sorting,

Below...

oiled ties hold aloft,
nestled rails awaiting shake and settle,
atop platform timbers spread quietly,
fifty strong to the left,
fifty askew to the right,

While...

life of one horse moving,
bridle loose upon the rail,
its fourth leg raised in rest,
while twitching ears of radar silent scan,

Unnoticed by some...

tethered lace curtains flutter,
an invitation to secrets beyond,
through history's windowed records,
amidst restive motion in musty air,

As patience continues...

in shadowed sunset,
where gentle breeze makes light,
weathered dot and dash tape in curled plume,
its dear life clinging,
on taps of yesterday,

Still…

countdown continues,
as distant whistle shrieks,
soot and smoke rising,
life's centipede of wheels,
winds closer,
to stop,
to fill,
to await death’s moment.