CLXXIX: To Train Rides
I thank the Lord of heaven there are those
who take their cameras on the country train.
In my parts we have fought off many foes
who would have built up trains—but they are slain.
Just now I watched an hour long commute
from Gwynedd’s town of Blaenau Ffestiniog
down hilly lushness on its lavish route
across both plain and bay to Porthmadog.
Somehow, both old and new make something sweet.
How could electric wires add like that?
Where eldritch man and druid gods may meet:
the British country rail—their diplomat.
There are both good and bad ways we can build,
but this is one that leaves a few hearts filled.