Black smoke

 Black smoke rushes past me as I ride the rails to someplace.

My clothes are worn and tattered but clean as clean can be.

I made another notch in my belt as food has been hard to find, but

Maybe in the daylight, I'll see an apple orchard or trees ripe with plums.

I'll jump off and have my fill, then take a nap under the tree, soldiers.

In the distance, I hear the rumble of a southbound train, and I'll wait.

These old legs aren't what they were in my younger days, but I still run.

I approached a box car with open doors, and I leaped, but I didn't have the strength to hoist myself up anymore.

 Then, a hand reached out, and I took it, coming to rest on the boxcar floor.

. Thank you, mister, I began to say, but I was alone in that boxcar with no one to hear me.

 Only long-gone prayers mixed with trails of black smoke on a train leading to places I've never been.

Mike 2024