Ramblings from the Dark Side of the Moon


And if the band you're in
starts playing different tunes
I'll see you on the dark side
of the moon.

('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....

Copyright 2011
Ronald Angle