In a world of jets and
Electric cars
Satellites
And deep space probes
To slap out a rhythm
On rails as old as
Great grandfathers
The world will move on
Inevitably
When the only light on the dusty
Rolling mill
Comes streaming through smoky windows
Who will mourn the loss of such a
Glorious metaphor?
I grew up near the tracks at a time when there were common conrail shipments of cars going to and from Detroit. I am sad to say that now all I see go by are the occasional comuter train from Kalamazoo to Detroit. Of all the ways to travel now, the train has always been my favorite.
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