The Path of No Path

Two Short, one long As she exits the Eastern Colombia River Gorge I am awakened by the deep rumblings of an old friend. For more than forty-five minutes I feel her presence. The matron's deep resonate vibrations massage my floor and tickle my bedroom window. Five miles away, a lilting chant cracks open the stillness of the quiet night air. Two short, roooo woooo One long, rooooooooooooooooooooo Abrupt silence. Twenty or so minutes pass and the melody returns. Outside my window now, two short, one long. Dogs bark and a car alarm goes off. Roooo woooo, rooooooooooooooooooooo Diesel engines smoke and snarl, electric motors whine and moan as a hundreds of boxcars, overloaded with grain crash and smash. Without mercy, beating the cold steal rails. As she passes, I hear her brothers and sisters. Brakes howl and wheels cry out as they bite hard into the tracks. One by one they descend through that tight, decreasing radius turn that marks their exit from the gorge. In tw...