I swear, the sound of a train still makes me lonely

One afternoon in early autumn, the wind 

was in the treetops. In my mind's eye, 

I saw bodies in bowler hats falling from 

 

the sky, each one a bomb, ready 

to open into umbrella. Vision 

accompanied by engine sounds 

 

and the usual whistle over 

the clatter of iron wheels on track. 

I swear, the sound of a train still 

 

makes me lonely. Afternoon into 

evening, and the wind tore leaves 

(goldengrove unleaving?) from the 

 

branches. I looked up into the star 

domed sky through the maple 

roof and saw it clear: 

 

space was just a distance 

between here and there; time 

the thing between now and then, 

 

and I was somewhere between 

body and soul, broken-hearted 

and riddled with light. 

 

[Joyce Sutphen {1949- } 'One Afternoon in Early Autumn', from Naming the Stars]