Hey, it's really, really quiet!
So...
here's a murmur of a scribbly piece for some comments (if anyone's out there
and wanting to offer any!)
And Sometimes…
Sometimes it happens like this:
I glance from a train window and the sky, so crisp from horizon to heaven,
is a sunset. And everything but the world we all travel through stops.
And should I weep for realising what I’ve missed – the beauty
science has no words for – or simply rejoice in the distance I see,
the atmosphere, so subtle with colour and time, how it blends and bends
and then it’s gone. And I need wax crayons, watercolours, in my memory
and fast hands: for, I feel I, too, am only a moment in travel,
shaking slightly as the train curves away.
Bob Cooper
(who'n not sure if the title and the first phrase start things right either!
It got itself scribbled on a train when the start seemed OK enough --
butwhile typing it out just now I'm starting to wonder...)
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