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 He tweets at @dbreeden