Subway wind

Weary, drained,
I stand on the platform
and wait for the train.

I know there is no
signal, yet still
I check my phone.

I step to the edge
and marvel at the
debris between the rails.

The air begins to stir;
then picks up force;
wind surges down the tunnel.

Displaced by the arriving train,
the wind whistles through the station,
and the wind whispers “home.”

And it revives me.

Shire on the Hudson
31 October 2013

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Filed under New York, Poem

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