Evening Run

Hungry mosquitos and late fall mist in the valley. Waiting until sundown. Walking further down the tracks - too many people for me. As she approaches the rails sing her presence. The steam appears over the trees. Then the whistle announces her arrival. The signals are tripped. She passes, forged steel thunder as she echos from the embankment. Ground shaking - it is only seconds until she is gone. Excitement fades to sadness. It's the last run this year. I turn to walk away, and the moon is rising.