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My Morning

An audible disturbance reverberated in the wee hours.
Lurching out of bed, my eyes squinting and my body weary.
Oh joy, the railroad is needing me on this morning dreary.

Fumbling with the phone in the dark, I dropped it twice.
Clearing my throat, I answered it, sounding barely alive.
The caller mumbled something at oh-four-thirty-five.

Shuffling to the sink to slosh cold water on my face.
More cognizant now, a stout brew I must promptly make.
Grips...packed, lunch...made, now time for a coffee break.

Finally, I get dressed and wonder if the clunker has enough gas.
My honey, Lesa, is awake and tells goodbye with a kiss.
Ah serendipity! I'm on cloud nine. My life, a sweet bliss.

Running late, dust is billowing and gravel is exploding from under my car.
My grape pop-tart is polished off and the to-go cup of joe is nearly gone.
I arrived at work and hastily parked, my excitement betrayed by a big yawn.

Going in the crew room, I find my hogger is as about as animated as me.
Suddenly bad news came and I watch his face as he grimaced and cussed.
All I can do is smile, load back up and ramble home, this train trip...a bust.

Chuck Hancock

poem by Charles Hancock
Added by Poetry Lover
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