Schiphol Airport, Amsterdam, 2010
Travel ~ Edna St. Vincent Millay
The railroad track is miles away,
And the day is loud with voices speaking,
Yet there isn't a train goes by all day
But I hear its whistle shrieking.
All night there isn't a train goes by,
Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming,
But I see its cinders red on the sky,
And hear its engine steaming.
My heart is warm with friends I make,
And better friends I'll not be knowing;
Yet there isn't a train I'd rather take,
No matter where it's going.
Parts of my brain are still traveling.More reliable dispatches will resume shortly. Not sure who’s hosting Poetry Friday today! But keep looking, you’ll find them. Or, they’ll find you.
Cyn: THANK YOU. I found it!
Laurie: After riding from California to Chicago, I don't miss them as much as I *could,* but I'd do it again – to Denver, at least.
Kelly: You as my poetry teacher in school would have been AMAZING.
Edna just wanted to stay home and drink and garden in the nude. (Those last two bits are true, based on what I've read about her – her fall down the steep staircase is rumored to be the result of drink, although it's never been confirmed.)
These days the thought of travelling by plane is daunting… by the time they get through searching and having me take off my shoes, and earring etc. I feel less than clean…
On another note, I had the wrong column link T, here is the correct one: http://www.stabroeknews.com/2010/the-scene/01/16/my-first-vegan-dinner/
One of my all time favorites….I miss the trains of the east so much. Guess it's time to hop on Amtrak and head towards Portland. My new passport is just begging to be stamped as well.