How fast a world crumbles.
How slowly one gathers again.
There is the arriving;
there is the going away.
There is the train siding
with its birds and debris.
And waiting. And waiting.
There is the falling rain beating,
beating against windows.
How slowly a world gathers,
if ever one arrives. Yet
something glimmers—both
birds and debris. Rain.
Windows. Trains.
Arriving. Arriving.
Rev. Dr. David Breeden has a Master of Fine Arts in poetry from The Iowa Writers’ Workshop and a PhD from the Center for Writers at the University of Southern Mississippi, with additional study in writing and Buddhism at Naropa Institute in Boulder, Colorado. Breeden blogs at https://medium.com/@davidbreeden7 He tweets at @dbreeden
