A boy’s kite sails
across the river,
its string becomes cord,
swells to cable
which sprouts a bridge.

A locomotive shuttles,
iron upon iron,
over the roaring tumult
soon to tumble as rain
for three seconds.

The train moves on.
The flood becomes ocean.
The boy grows old.
Cry for him

if you’ve time.


20 thoughts on “Niagara

  1. This reminds me of a Turner painting in his Industrial Revolution series, of a train which is thundering straight at you off the canvas.You capture similar agressive speed.

  2. Truly remarkable way of sailing through the years so quickly, and the changes we see in life along the way…… Great insight. I remember sailing a kite in the back yard as though it was just earlier this afternoon. Those memories really don’t fade. The house is still there, as are its neighboring houses. But it’s a different place now. 50 years makes a difference. I’m glad I am who i am today, but I often long for those simpler, wonderful days of youth….. Certainly worth crying for….

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