Thoughts From A Station

Winter crowd in winter shrouds
Stand at the station, wait on the train
Silently, leavelessly, winter fills the air
An icy thorn to pierce the soul's indifference
And once again the sleeping conscience turns
Oh would you bear the bitter fruit of loveless work
Or mercy from the universe?

Willie, your words are timeless, true but not of truth
And words of the heart, though it would chill and burn in flames
A nod or a word of hello brings it soaring back again
And yet a word would have us guard our privacy
And search the eyes for signs of sanity