Stranded at Doon

Past the tunnel
The Pullman stops dead on the track.

Standing at the carriage door
I gaze at the silent sierra
Framing the distant horizon.

The once-dense forest cover
Has now been stripped almost bare.

A thin veil of mist bluish white
Hangs limp on the surrounding scene.

Just a few families
Linger in the bogie
Not sure
Being several hours behind schedule
Exactly when the train
Would chug into the station.

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.