Once I lived restrained and quiet.
Then something stirred, like a hawk
beating its wings in flight.
Here, from my window perch,
I seek words or image
to mirror the chasm crossed.
For now, all I can say is that on Monday
near Raton, New Mexico,
only a little scrappy snow
remained from Friday’s storm.
After the train reached Raton,
a young Amish couple
disembarked and walked
toward the sign that proclaimed:
“Injury prevention practiced here.”
Suddenly the young Amish man
ducked and grinned,
already working the snow in his hands.
A snowball sailed toward him, and he dodged.
Then Amish man and Amtrak train conductor
exchanged blow for blow
in play, sharing all that words cannot say.