The Tracks

The tracks extend into the fog
Winding until they disappear
Intent on finding
Their way

As I
Content to follow
Am in no hurry
To get there
Am patient in my wandering

I follow no timetable
Board no trains
Have no destinations
In mind

The tracks take me
Where they will
Around corners
Neither of us chose

I step from tie to tie
Measuring my progress by the sun's hopes
Straining against the fog
I am in no hurry
Finding the fog friendly
A comforter
Of sorts

The signals flash
A train approaching
Rumbling somewhere
Far off
Its horns sounding warnings
At each crossing

I can step aside
For a while
Lingering on the siding
Waiting for the bright lights
The wheels screaming
Passengers in a hurry
A brief interruption
Before I resume my own path