I can hear The Downeaster pushing the air ahead of it
before it rumbles past the back of the house, again,
like it does every morning.
In the late days of winter, the sun is just cresting
as we hear the train making its way back to Boston again,
the light glinting off the silver roofs
just visible from my kitchen table.
At this hour it's businesspeople reading the paper
or their morning emails,
drinking coffee.
They're eyes rest on the glass of the windows
but mostly they see their calendars and day's meetings
even as the New Hampshire woods slide past.
Some part of their brain is vaguely aware of a little house with grey siding
they just passed,
sun reflecting off the windows.
They don't see the man, also drinking coffee,
looking back at them.
They are passing through Newburyport
when I put my mug in the dishwasher
and wander up to my office
where my own calendar and email awaits.
YouTube: https://youtu.be/FemO2vL8tVU
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