Northbound on the Metro-North

 Click-clack hum on silver track,

The Hudson yawns, the skyline back.
From tunnels deep to rising shore,
The city fades, then roars no more.

A blur of bricks and rusted steel,
Gives way to trees the wind can feel.
The river glides like whispered prose,
While morning sun in silence glows.

Commuters lined in tired grace,
With coffee cups and stubbled face.
Some scroll the news, some close their eyes,
Some chase a dream that never dies.

The whistle cries near Tarrytown,
Where thoughts slow down, and clocks wind down.
A pause between two lives we keep,
The one we chase, the one we sleep.

Past Yonkers, Ossining, and green,
Where mountains watch and skies grow clean.
The train becomes a moving prayer,
For all who seek their why out there.

So let it roll through steel and pine,
A lifeline drawn in rhythmic line.
For every ride, a breath, a span,
Between the rush and who I am.