echoes from the past

Whispers of Yesterday – Do you hear what I hear?

This is one of my paintings completed for my husband. It hung in his office until his retirement from the railroad.

An Echo from Yester Year

“All aboard,” echoed the conductor’s final call
Alerting passengers that time for departure was near.
Two short pulls on the signal cord whistled
Signaling the engineer, “All clear.”

The air-brakes were progressively released
And the throttle slowly pulled by the engineer.
The stackers exhaled white and black smoke
Engulfing the horizon of the open frontier.

Wheels and flanges from cab to caboose
Reverberated sounds of grinding metal against metal.
The engineer applied the air-brakes
Releasing piercing noises that could really nettle.

The whistles and bells still heard today
Echo sounds reminiscent of yester year:
A symbol of dynamic energy and strength,
Spirited and arduous, but never austere.

What boy has not thrilled at such sights and sounds?
What boy has not dreamed of a keen eye upon the rail?
What boy has not envisioned his hand upon the throttle?
This is yester year that continues to prevail.

A helping word to one in trouble is often like a switching on a railroad track…
an inch between wreck and smooth, rolling prosperity.”
~Henry Ward Beecher

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papa, mr. catfish and me

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the dew fell softly on an early Saturday morn
with the sun barely visible from the shore
quietly slipping the boat into the water
each of us grabbed an ore

out on the lake, all silvery and calm
preparations were made for the match
the full moon from the night before
let us know we were in for a big catch

reading the lines, red wigglers for bait
a swift cast made the lines fall free
the cork disappeared under the water
popping up again, visible to Papa and me

i’ll never forget the aroma of pipe tobacco
the can of sardines or the scorching heat
nor the times we drifted underneath shady limbs
where Papa fell fast asleep. . .

that was when the cork bobbed up and down
heaviness flooding my veins made my arms ache
Papa woke up, gently took my hand
helping me land the biggest catfish in the lake

“There is certainly something in angling
that tends to produce a serenity of the mind.”
~Washington Irving