Log Cabin Chronicles

The Train Station

Across from the freight sheds
Nestled non-majestically
Next to the iron rails
It sat

Creosote drenched
And oil aerated
Functionally alive
It sat

Pew-like benches
Catching coal heat
Housing the anxious
It sat

Women in wool coats and feathered hats
Children in wool, top-to-boots
Smelling like mittens on a school register
It sat

North to Farnham and Montreal
Or south to St. J. and Wells River
Awaiting the conductor's call
It sat

The windows frosted over
The inside like Grandma's quilt
Safe, secure, warm
Intoxicating

The sound of steam
And brakes
And metal on metal screeching
And a final hiss

All aboard...

Doug McKenny is a customs broker
in Derby Line, Vermont


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Copyright © 1999 Doug McKenny/Log Cabin Chronicles/5.99