Weird Tales

"In the snow. The ways
Traced beneath branches
In the bath of that
Weird light. Around dusk."

His voice was vibrant,
A smile shared freely
In a wind-chilled night
Among vagrant friends.

But the words fell thick
To the forest floor.
Certain old moments
Pushed through surfaces.

Someone pulled a stick
Through the jungle fire,
Stirring spark, ember.
Hands gathered collars.

Sudden quiet came
Uninvited, spare.
The fields near the tracks
Inhaled the night air.

Eyes pulled themselves up
Around the treetops:
The silence went thin;
The cup went unpassed.

"I know you heard it.
Before this, I mean."
And of course they had.
Every one of them.

Old Passed-Track stood up,
Eyed the ensemble.
"You think I'm a fool?"
Nobody answered.

"Well. I won't go on."
The leaves in the trees
Above them groaned, sighed.
"I will not," he said.

A long stillness passed.
At last, one man stood.
"You know you got to."
He kicked at the fire.

Passed-Track's shoulders slumped.
He drew a sharp breath.
"This ain't the story
I wanted to tell."

"We know," someone said.
"But you'll tell it well.
And your miles are earned
As well as any."

So the night went long,
And the fire was fed,
And Passed-Track remained,
Pressed to small hours.

Near dawn, the sky spun
Suddenly, in one,
Quick, fluid motion,
The stars quivering.

Passed-Track settled up
The story's remnants
As knowing chuckles
Passed around the fire.

And in the distance,
A steam-backed whistle
Breached the horizon.
The ground shook that way.

A westbound hot-shot
On a north-laid track;
A sudden exit
From a long, slow curve.

The moments settled.
Gear was gathered up.
Someone poured coffee
On the dawn-lit coals.

At last, a young voice
Broke the solemn still:
"What a night it was!
I am reminded

"Of a certain tale
I know I've been told,
but that is somehow
shrouded to my mind.

"Before we catch out,
I'd like to share it,
Although, only now,
As I speak, it forms:

"In the snow. The ways
Traced beneath branches
In the bath of that
Weird light. Around dusk."