The Drifter Of Rails

Hopping freights is a way of life few will ever know
Endless skies and endless rides all for the tramp to see
Lost in every emotion of the moment
Lost in a landscape canvas painted by drops from the sky
By rays from the sun
By wind from a blackened rain storm
Traveling through the back country
Traveling on twisting rail lines of steel
Alongside straw colored wheat fields
Waving slowly in the plains’ gentle breeze
Through tunnels carved out of mountain sides
By sweat, steel, and callused hands
Echoes call out softly
Echoes from workers of a time gone by
Making his way up the Pacific coast
A wide-eyed tramp looks into the darkest of nights
An eclipse of the moon drifts slowly in the starless sky
A red dusty glow surrounds its edge
Like an ember
Its dark center shadow is surrounded by a fiery red glow
Falling asleep to the gentle rock of the train
Watching the shadowed red dusty moon disappear from sight
Waking to see a sea of green blowing in the Oregon wind
A forest of ferns and towering trees
A back drop of natures design
The crisp morning air, damp and cool blows against his face
The train lets out a mighty roar
Then lumbers into the yard
Time to find a new train to ride
The Tramp, The Hobo, The Drifter Of Rails
　


Published at The Camel Saloon March 19 / 2011

Photo By Jason E. Hodges