Northern Indiana is as quiet
as the hum of distant freight trains running
through Elkhart to anywhere –
the railroads are spun like spider’s webs
sprawling across the heartland.
There’s nothing to say and no plans
for the evening have been made.
Today brings the first chill of the season,
a red or yellow maple leaf here and there
reminds us of summer’s gentle passing.
Northern Indiana is quiet now and my
love stands at the top of the tallest building in town,
cooking up soups and warmth
that comfort the shivering with
thick wallets and broken spirits.
He cooks, I wait
alone in the quiet of an Indiana autumn night,
a time when nothing stirs,
but his spoon,
and I am hypnotized by
the soft tick-tocking
of our old water pipes.