Train

Metal against steel.
Fiery carbon, made to go over tracks, hot rolled.
That distant bolt of light, spreads a blinding sheath, as it rolls on.
It's far-off whistle, becomes a horn, drawing closer....
Sharp curves, are intense negotiations.
Rumbling grows rhythmic, as an axel reaches stride.
A fire bellows, swelling the air with exhaust, & grey determination.
The blackened sky, is turned golden with it's smokestack lightning.
Squealing, like a second wind, & grinding to a stop....
Having finally arrived.