he will not stop here: a haiku (and a prose)

yellow cloudsI have come this way

resting feet and tired heart

spirit does not sway

~~~~~~~~~~He cannot stop now. The last time he has been here to rest awhile. The clouds have turned their color. A sudden change to a yellow-orange hue which looks rather strange and he does not know why. He can feel the hurried urge inside and the train has paused only for minutes to allow travelers to join or for others to alight from it. But his upper level car remains empty except him. One couple comes up to the upper deck and decides to go down to another car on the lower level. Ride in the upper level gives a panoramic view of the passing scenery. The lower level has better convenience like the diner car and well-appointed restrooms. But he seems to hear the mountain whispering from the distance it will be a spectacular view for the two-and-half-day train journey. So he remains where he is. He is crossing from the west coast to the east coast. Why does he choose to use a train and not fly? He cannot answer. It’s costly and time-consuming to travel by train. Someone says. When he looks around indeed he can only see calmer and less hurried travelers like him. He can hear the wind blowing in his heart even now, the gentle calling in his spirit. She sent him a picture yesterday. Her coal-black eyes looked deep into the window of his soul. He has hidden it in his breast pocket close to his heart with care. How can he not? No, he will not stop.


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