Poetry Friday: Travels

The last few weeks have been full of travels. Some for business. Some for pleasure. Last week I flew to Portland, Oregon for a sweet visit with my daughter. Portland is a colorful city, even when it's gray.

Here's a travel poem to celebrate Poetry Friday. Stop by The Writer's Armchair for more poetry.

Night Journey

Now as the train bears west,

Its rhythm rocks the earth,

And from my Pullman berth

I stare into the night

While others take their rest.

Bridges of iron lace,

A suddenness of trees,

A lap of mountain mist

All cross my line of sight,

Then a bleak wasted place,

And a lake below my knees.

Full on my neck I feel

The straining at a curve;

My muscles move with steel,

I wake in every nerve.

I watch a beacon swing

From dark to blazing bright;

We thunder through ravines

And gullies washed with light.

Beyond the mountain pass

Mist deepens on the pane;

We rush into a rain

That rattles double glass.

Wheels shake the roadbed stone,

The pistons jerk and shove,

I stay up half the night

To see the land I love.

Theodore Roethke