Penn Central by Mark Nicholson

Penn Central

by Mark Nicholson

The small towns always look the same

from trains;

their pulse is low with the August

sun baking Main Street.

Dusty farmers with sunlight and

a million rows of corn in their eyes

move at halftime to the clock

on a faded red courthouse.

The noon train is a break

in summers monotony;

blurred faces at the windows.