Through A Window

​Through a Window

Dusk in the Andes
En route to our lodging
after a full day 
full of stunning views 
at Machupicchu
that make your heart soar
and ground your soul.
Our train rolls through
this mountain valley
tracing an ancient path
beside the Urubamba River, 
tall shoulders of steep cliffs 
hugging either side.

The cars rocking gently to and fro
soft Peruvian music mingles 
with soft conversations. 
The unfocused mind 
pulled by a glance
out the window, 
spies a rusty steel bridge
painted white long ago,
that calmly spans the 
rumbling rushing waters. 
Old lamps on the trestles 
cast their golden glow quietly
in the misty haze of the evening.

A father on the far side, looks on 
lovingly as his young daughter
in a white pressed dress with lace, 
skips lightly as a thistle seed
in the breeze, 
across the solid iron,
her rhythmic steps 
in perfect pace 
with our swaying cars.
We careen toward and then
beyond the bridge, 
enveloped within the surreal, 
strangely comforting dynamics. 
Then padre e hija fade; so too 
the bridge, the river, and the cliffs
all swallowed by darkness
as we flow forward
into the night.