Atmosphere Of Nightly Talent Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Coming down tracks, looking both ways, waiting for the
engine to jump the tracks and run away free and clear
into the night.

Postponing flashing lights supposed to be filed into
the atmosphere of a nightly talent being swallowed in
energy of what keeps being brought to the foreground.

Waving and yelling as the engine hits a roadblock that
has been set up, watching as everything slams into its
essence.

What's now happening, being taken away and left along
the tracks throughout the night, nobody being any wiser
than before.