Train Ride

by Ruth Stone

All things come to an end;
small calves in Arkansas,
the bend of the muddy river.
Do all things come to an end?
No, they go on forever.
They go on forever, the swamp,
the vine-choked cypress, the oaks
rattling last year's leaves,
the thump of the rails, the kite,
the still white stilted heron.
All things come to an end.
The red clay bank, the spread hawk,
the bodies riding this train,
the stalled truck, pale sunlight, the talk;
the talk goes on forever,
the wide dry field of geese,
a man stopped near his porch
to watch. Release, release;
between cold death and a fever,
send what you will, I will listen.
All things come to an end.
No, they go on forever.

Bad Roads In Spring

by Greg Brown

Middle of March and it's snowing
Let me forget everything
You can't always get where you're going
Bad roads in spring

I wanted to be on top of it by evening
Catch the morning hours from behind
But a big blizzard hit up from Denver
You don't get too far drivin' blind

The trucks passed us by out of Springfield
Never a sign to our pleas
Oh it's fine to look out through the windshield
When it's rainin' and 32 degrees

Middle of April at sundown
Stuck in the country mud I have to sing
Wait for the morning to come around
Bad roads in spring.