Dusk At Princeton Station Poem by Warren Falcon

man on the platform
Northward trains
waits pressed against
late summer

still-green
densities
rush as only
shadows can

sun slants/the dark slides easily in

tree clusters red, yellow
tinged, early October, top
limb silver shine leans
downhill over-catches the
man leaning on a rail face
to late sun, worker, dirty,
pants torn, catches it
in the ear (so it appears)
he does not move, think,
fears what might occur
from such a limb

there

at this late hour
sun and shadow slide
away from each as I wait
the train here more mine
to outrun what is left
behind

chase a horizon
toward gold then red to
Magic 10** never old or
worn as am I rush
rocked by track
lilt wheel tilt
toward melting

darkness
a permanent one
hang some where

it is a song once
upon a star all
child's play now

for now
anticipate
sitting here
the jolt
to begin
this

all the
slow coming
to speed

then

the sway at day's end

shall not hold back
these tears for fear
of no press to return


for now

but to sway



**Magic 10 is that name photographers use to describe
a quality of light past sunset but not yet fully dark
which is 'magic' to photograph as there is a visible
dark blue/black shine not seen at any other time.