Jennospot 114 Mountain Train
By special request, Oi've been asked ter put a poem up on moi blog; so 'ere it is: It's by Peter St John. Oi 'ope yew loike it. Any'ow there's a noice picture...
Chuffing upward from the plain
Skyward climbs the charm-like train;
Pinion tic tac on the rack.
Watch-like, clock-like, mounts the track;
Mountain goat with iron wheels;
Rounding bends with squeaks and squeals;
Tunnelling the buttress through:
Just another cheese to chew.
The valley seems a toy-town place
Seen from heaven's peer-down space.
Droll-doll chalets, sprinkled sparse,
Spick upon the cow-cud grass.
Tie by tie, the rails astride,
Ladder up the mountain side;
Thinly-lean, a two-pronged harrow,
Swissly-clean and spindly-narrow,
Parallel they never meet
Except... up in the sky, to greet
A Gruyère moon; looming there
In the crystal Swiss-wine air.
Or at the sun, join in one,
Fusing from a switchback run
On an undulating way.
Pop-stop eardrums feel the rise;
We ride together to the skies.
No more trees; they're left behind...
High, the wind is too unkind.
Squeezing on a freezing bridge;
Ease along a heart-stop ridge;
Where peaks in this vicinity
Point us to infinity.
Down below all nods and plods:
At Heaven's portal we are gods.
And god-like, one would higher go;
Higher than the peaks and snow.
But... down one must towards the dust,
In wonder-lusting train unjust.
Entrusting Hope to justify
The return ticket from the sky.
The single strand now splits in two;
Divides One into me and you.
Down we rumble, charnel bundle...
Mindful as we earthwards trundle
Of rapture; but euphoria fails...
Fading on descending rails.
Below the air is thick.