This last ride almost over,
  the train coming to a stop

The mighty engine slowing down,
  my ticket punched and clocked

With words I left untendered,
  in towns along the tracks

My thoughts there drift upon the wind,
  my legacy attached

This journey seemed redundant,
  the scenery looked the same

But voices never heard before,
  cry out and call my name

The conductor gives fair warning,
  his face I know so well

“A turnout waits, the tracks will switch,
   to heaven—or to hell”

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2017)