Scorching heat, dry weeds.
Tall, sparse weeds, some cockle burs that stick to your socks.
A lonely desolate place, though somehow it is a place that speaks softly of expectation, as though at any moment "something" exciting will happen.
Languishing in the sun, following the lines down, further and further as the anticipation builds.
Almost giving up, when...
A low rumbling starts, so faint only vibrations and expectation is felt at first.
In the distance, clickity clack, tickity tack, clickity, tickity, clickity, tickity.
Growing louder and louder, the rumbling as well.
Suddenly a long slow whistle, like a lost soul cries out.
Bursting onto the scene is the rattling train, clickity, tickity, clickity, tickity.
The weeds shiver and the smell of coal dust and steel emanates from the shuttering beast.
Clickity, tickity, clickity, tickity, clickity, tickity on and on it goes.
Scorching heat, and dry weeds,
are the only thing you can see.
Short lived fulfillment,
as the anticipation begins to build again.