5:15 Amtrak to Norfolk

Williamsburg awaits
a Thanksgiving adventure
with our family

Historic brick, vaulted and coffered ceilings
in the 2-story lobby where echoes bounce
from wall to wall following the sneaker squeak
and flip-flop of a family walking past.
The historic-building-lover in me can’t help
but swivel eyes from floor to ceiling, lights
to doorways, a hundred years of history
ensconced in one building, testament to train
travel’s dream of sparks and steam.*

ornate brick outside
Italianate inside out
yesteryear whispers

We sit beside an older couple, short and robust
like my grandparents, Cuban Spanish rolling
off their whispers and in the stilted greeting.
“Hola,” I reply back. “Son Cubanos?”
My “si” produces a box of pastelitos from a tote
bag at their feet - “” - for you - 
as if we’re family meeting for a ride together
and they were charged with bringing the snacks.

from Miami north
we ride together
bound by our shared roots

Silence reigns over whispered yawns at 5 AM,
our adopted Cuban grandparents leaving the train
to see their real daughter and grandchildren.
The passenger car sways riders back to sleep,
pillows and blankets piled across bodies,
backpacks as footrests, phones silent 
black mirrors barely grasped in languid hands.

the train never sleeps
rocking passengers along
morning light through the trees

Trees dressed in last night’s cold, Earth’s breath 
awakening with the light.The countryside outside 
the train’s window sits in shades of pink and gray - 
fence posts, ponds, cows, homes, a single car
keeping pace with the train on a country lane 
before we veer back into a forest of gray trees.
Everything quiet, unaware of our silent passage.

For Tuesday Poetics at d’Verse, Punam gave us a train prompt. I also had the added prompt of “silence”.

We don’t ride the train in Florida as much as in other parts of the country or world. However, I wanted my son to experience an overnight trip at least once so when he was 10, we took Amtrak from Tampa to Norfolk where my parents picked us up for a family Thanksgiving in Williamsburg.

I struggled with posting this entire poem right now as I feel like it still needs a lot, but I’ll work on that separately and offer what I have for now.

*reference to James E. Tokley, Sr’s The Epic of Tampa Union Station

---

Did you know I’m on Instagram and Facebook? I am! Sometimes I’m on TikTok, too, though I don’t post there as often.