Cpr Freight To Rossport Poem by Richard Provencher

A penciled line moves along
noticeably dark, crookedly
tap dancing around curves of track
then charges the northern skin
of Ontario sky

wilderness, a carpet of snowy landscape

mining machinery, furniture and
oil, car parts, paper products and
meat, all heading for a friendly stay

up front an engineer keeps a wary watch
couple of horn blasts just in case,
last time a silly moose side-swiped the run
he must be up to the Tundra by now

anxious means getting home soon
telegraph poles counting off the miles,
can't wait to feel the warmth of wife and kids

beneath his feet the clank and grind
of steel reacts to the muscle-pull, powerful
engines straining to make the schedule

at the end of the string an old caboose
bumps along while men of experience
circle a pot-bellied stove, joking
and laughing at their tall-tale telling

faces peering through dirty windows
see shadowy blends of birch and darker spruce
as partridges thump out their evening songs,
a signal for the woods to come alive

ahead are warning lights, barriers down
and distant through the haze of diesel fumes
a hill smiles at their coming.