By Eamon Grennan
Scattered through the ragtaggle underbrush starting
to show green shoots
lie the dark remains of rail sleepers napping now
beside the rusted-out wreck
of a Chevy that was once sky-blue and now is nothing
but shattered panels and
anonymous bits of engine in the ditch by a path that
was once a railway line
cut between small hills whose silence hasn't been
broken by the rattle and
lonesome-blown whistle of a train for fifty years and
whose air hasn't filled
for ages with my childhood's smell (set by Seapoint on
the coastal line) of coal
smoke and hot steam puffed up in great cloud-breaths
out of a black-sooted chimney.
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I had a pile of chores to do on Wednesday after hauling Daniel out of bed after noon. I had to stop at a bunch of stores, go to AC Moore only to discover that AC Moore had moved across Rockville Pike, then rush home to let in Adam who had forgotten his key, after an already exciting day during which a fire in his school auditorium caused the building to be evacuated for more than an hour.
Evening involved domestic chores like folding laundry (laundry-folding movie was Bride and Prejudice with Aishwarya Rai; Adam kept walking through saying "Colin Firth is the bad guy"). I have to review Deep Space Nine early this week since I'll be out most of Friday, so we watched "Invasive Procedures" with Lionel Luthor, then a bunch of fifth season episodes. Some signs of spring in College Park last weekend:
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