Ramblings from the Dark Side of the Moon
And if the band you're in
('Brain Damage', Roger Waters/Pink Floyd, Dark Side of the Moon, 1973)
Southbound at Butte Creek
The mockingbird in the willows
sings in full song
and the creek is in full flow.
Each sound overlaps the other,
creating a harmony with the wind.
The afternoon sun lights up the rails,
Turning iron into gold.
Green rice tops
create emerald lakes,
as far as I can see.
A distant, lonely whistle
sounds a grade crossing warning,
giving me full notice
of the noise and fury yet to come.
It is time for the southbound freight.
Sixty cars, linked like elephants,
rush towards me; still unseen
on a fast track to somewhere else.
I stand firm and wait, looking ahead
like that little boy fifty years ago.
With time, the trains change as I change.
The shapes and colors and marks
seem like postcard reminders
of places and lives visited
in my chase of steel wheels on iron rails.
Now there is a headlight, a whistle,
a bell of urgent warning. It is here
with a rush, a roar, and a mighty wind.
Locomotives and cars clack in rhythm
across rail joints, and then are gone.
It was just minutes. Now,
the mockingbird sings again
And Butte Creek still flows to the sea.
The rail is quiet, the southbound is gone.
It is a good day.
There's still more....