Semi-Random Reflections

Read time: 1 Min.

Alone, the wanderer snaps
Through the rampant woods without a map
Till he finds a place where kudzu vines have grown
Around the lifeless locomotive caught in their trap.

The engine rests there as its own tombstone,
Its mummified remains preserved by vines alone.
Its railless wheels have halted from their courses,
The firebox has frozen, the water tank is dry as stone.

Inspecting the body, he finds no defect that forces
It to lie there. No missing part or open sore is
Visible. Freed and cleaned, it could travel further.
People have reanimated more corroded corpses.

He could surely arrange its rescue by some museum or other,
But the engine seems to groan against such bother.
It has kept its final promise,
And resents petitions for another.

The choice he finally makes is this:
The resurrector role’s not his.
He exits through the forest’s brush and frizz,
Resolved to leave the body where it is.