As I dash of my front porch the train blares its lonesome melody.
I’m alone and pedaling hard against the new black top.
My bike speeds across… (actually the gears are messed up so it creeps across like a lethargic turtle.)
Tires spinning I think of that train. Its contents. Its operators. Its graffiti. Most importantly, Its destination.
I think about that destination and wonder. Wonder where I’ll go next. And most importantly when.
I think of Scotland, my ancestral lands. I think of the hush of the sea breeze and the crashing salt waves.
Soon I will be there.