It’s Just a Train Whistle

Every morning,
around 4 a.m.,
a train whistles
into my head
and stops
somewhere behind
my closed eyes.

Without hesitation
I board and
off we go.

The landscape
we roll through
is as familiar as
my damp pillow.

Billboards
spelling out
every adventure
I missed
because I feared
the effort or
thought I smelled
danger.

Neon signs
vivid with the
panoramas
of every misadventure
I didn’t avoid
because I
closed my eyes
and laid my head
back on the
couch cushion.

Fields of
dreams I
planted,
but wandered off
and someone else
picked the fruit and
plucked the flowers.

I ride this train
nearly every day,
but I’m thinking
I do too much thinking.

Today could be
the day
I see the train
coming and
wave it through
without stopping.

Why do I imagine
I must
get onboard?

Awhile ago
I received
a message

that I’m
adored
by the Maker of
All That Is,

inviting me to
remember
I have lifetimes
of Adventures
awaiting,
acres of
landscapes
where dreams
can be planted.

I don’t need
to keep
taking that train.

(Photo by Brian Suman; UnSplash)