Wander project A poem


Beneath a blue October Sky.

The color around us changing

as the red falls from the sky

to litter everywhere.

Covering everything

in pausing

tin ears hear the

sound of

a struggling locomotive

an engine

needing tuning can you hear the roar?

or perhaps just wheels

clinging tight too the tracks the roar muted by the lost leaves that flutter away to fall

clacking

as they crush

the red beneath.

I hear the sound

but it is nowhere to

be seen.

No trestle

no tracks

just the sound of quiet

as the leaves fall

and the Mighty Monon is no more.

Sandler Boggs

(national poetry month)

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