Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writer 05/24/21


I’m not sure why I like trains.
I don’t collect models
I don’t care about design or form
I know the basics of how they work
Like any vehicle.
Lots of movies feature the old coal-fueled kind
But the story captured my attention
Not the train.

I walk from my building to my car
Parked near railroad tracks
Where a train passes daily, several times, both ways
Blocks traffic
Blares its horn, deafens nearby pedestrians
Shuttles cargo and people from there to here.

I’m not sure why I like trains.
I used to watch one go by our house
With Dad
Race across the carpet to burst outside
Stop at the wire fence to the vineyard next door
Only one, once a day, sometimes at night.
On sunny days we’d worm through the fence
Walk the tracks
Grass and wildflowers poking up
Between the metal rails
The wood slats pitted and grooved from rain.

But the train stopped at one point.
They mended the wire fence
I grew up
And now watch a dusty train barrel on sizzling
Singing tracks
My pumps pinching my toes

©2021 Carol Edwards All rights reserved.

Carol Edwards

Carol Edwards is a northern California native transplanted to southern Arizona. She lives and works in relative seclusion with her books, plants, and pets (2 dogs, 4 cats, + husband). She grew up loving the fantasy worlds of C.S. Lewis, Peter Beagle, and J.R.R. Tolkien, and she harbors a fondness for Greek mythology. Her recent poetry inspirations include Emily Dickinson, Robert Bl, and George Herbert.

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