Andrea Moon

Educator, Performer, Director, Writer

 

 

A Way

The trains are screaming today.

The alder has erupted into the delicate

green thousands of spring hope.

 

Its gash scar of the late winter

ice-storm glares death-like

amidst the unfurling.

 

I too want to believe in

rebirth in the comfortable

skin of recognizable form,

 

even knowing it is

riding the rails away

and, without looking back,

 

ending up again where you started.

 

The alder's first amputation

scar unfurls hope-like amidst the

death of green thousands.

 

Away is a way the trains are screaming.