When asked about how to earn confidence and respect,
An old rail monopolist answered the following;

'When in interest and pursuit of respect,
A peaceful man must learn how to wield a sword.
Whether or not that may be figuratively or literally,
The quietest must teach themselves to yell the loudest.
Then once they are fit to chase away the thunder storms,
To slaughter the lightning and winds,
They have earned confidence and respect within.'

Abandoned in the middle of the blasted field,
its arms shredded, legs battered,
the chair exists in broken splendor
catching the best of the speckled light
dancing in the quivering shadows.
Lines of the seated father stain the backrest,
motherly molds are left behind in the seat foam,
the relentless kicks, tattoos of children’s feet
bruise the red velvet of the front rail.

At dawn, pulses of light run along its rails
dispersing all shadows to the wet ground.
At the speed of forgetfulness
two robins alight on this storm orphan,
widow, widower, this sole survivor,
with twigs to build a new stick home.