August 3, 2015
The train gives three short blasts on its horn as the heavy body diesel comes by. The blue-and-white striped prow comes out of the pines and I hear the wheels bumping the rails. I know there are broken timbers out there and broken pieces of steel. Still the whole thing holds together as the hopper cars now come in a row with diamonds of dusk between them. Then the train passes and I hear the carriages rattle away. The other sounds of the evening return. The voices from the park and the music on the laptop in the next room.