Railside Symphony

Railside lines weave music staffs,
Flowing cleffed as pictured songs fly past,
A silver trumpet horn of light
Plays off the lake before the night.
Timpanic factories boom now and then
At either end of small town rondos when,
The houses’ human chorus notes appear,
United by road lines’ cadence clear.
Farm fencing string sounds go round
The earth turned deepness of the cello ground.
Among the autumn’s espressivo  tones,
Occasionally comes back alone
The engine horn – long, long: short, long…
The monotone refrain in this sightly song.
Then a lone three storied old stone gable sings,
In sky blued keys through window gone rings,
A heartfelt tune of magic rhythm,
The thrilling lyrics of our natural anthem.