STATION INTERLUDE

February evening-- the station;
rough, neglected platform underfoot,
with frost-held darkness gathered deeply,
smudging out all silhouetted boughs
in general black of privacy.

Suddenly the lighted train took form,
windows wet from breath of folk within;
dim monads entirely unaware
of their being, noted fleetingly
where they sat in huddled privacy.

And boarding a carriage quietly,
I joined them, to journey quickly home.
How soon the changed environment did
change my own perceptions, there seated,
looking out from neutral privacy.


~ Stanley ~

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