Train station three am
The morning runners slowly file by
Catch a hot one headed to
To labor in the canyons of industry
Between concrete and
Virtual world electronic

Train station three thirty-five am
The grass is wet
With intermittent rain
Quiet descends between trains
One by they gather at the edge
Of the track glancing for
Distant train lights approaching
Ebb and flow humanity
Among the decorative station
A silent statue gazes north

Train station four am
The man with the cart slowly
Rolls to parking lot edge
Selling hot coffee and confections
A man with sleep still clinging
To his disheveled form
The late runners catch the doors
As they shut

Train station microcosm
Of a world in motion