A COAL TRAIN CALLED JOHN

Struggling for breath with a cold

In the night I hear the coal trains

Shuttling down the line to town,

The jazz of each passing one so

Lonely and dolorous I call it John;

I lie listening to the silence 

As it settles in the garden

You can’t hear silence they say,

But I listen to it anyway

In its perfection of absence.

Then from the line

The sound chills down

The valleys and gullies,

Another coal train humping

A blue note in its wake,

Its trucks abrim with brine,

Beating time on the rim

For a coming day so very near

Yet imaginary still as all

The else we fail to hear.

* You can listen to me reading "A Coal Train Called John", as well as "My Country", by clicking on the link below. 


http://larrybuttrose.blogspot.com.au/2012/03/my-writer-day-with-varuna.html