Somewhere in the season before COVID

Days cold and damp, earth air and sky the color of faded cement

I drove that road endlessly.

Parallel to the train tracks, steely cars the same color as all else but with a glossy sheen.

Ironically not what made me take a shine to them.

It was their forward motion

the promise of speeding me away

to some other day

destination

away from the depression I couldn’t outrun.

I felt like I was forever on that road.

Sad when the train didn’t rush past; sadder still when it did.

Now in this change of seasons, the red-winged blackbirds replaced by pops of red leaves,

the gray clouds are descending

but the swoosh of the train surprised me yesterday.

I noted its passing and didn’t feel the urge to run.