September’s country lanes
Had filled with goldenrod and Queen Anne’s lace
Down through the Berkshires and Taconics
To Wassaic Station.
There is something that fits a train station in September
You can see both ways
Back into the comfort of summer
And ahead to the promise of cool fall
It is like the reunion and the leave-taking
Illuminated by giant Cyclops’ light of diesel engines
A metaphor for the eternal emptying of life.