Gryphon that one is fabulous. when i lived in my previous apt it was right near the tracks, and there were like four crossings right in a short span. since the blow the whistle for all the crossings, it was a lovely sound to hear. when i first moved there the train only went by once a day at about three am. I loved hearing it. then all of the sudden the trains came all day long blowing their whistles for all four crossings. one conductor always blew just one continuous whistle thru all four stops. Sort of like his little joke.

 

When the train traffic increased so dramatically i wondered what business was suddenly so prosperous that they needed train load after train load of somethng moved. I always wished i could call the railroad and ask about the immense increase in traffic.

 

Now that ive moved i no longer hear the whistle ofthe train and i do miss it.

 

when i read your poem it immediately make me think of one of my favorite poems

 

Travel

THE railroad track is miles away,

And the day is loud with voices speaking,

Yet there isn't a train goes by all day

But I hear its whistle shrieking.

All night there isn't a train goes by,

Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming,

But I see its cinders red on the sky,

And hear its engine steaming.

My heart is warm with the friends I make,

And better friends I'll not be knowing;

Yet there isn't a train I wouldn't take,

No matter where it's going.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Whew!  Thanks, Blue!  I was afraid I was the last person on the planet that still had a "thing" for trains.     I used to ride the IvyLand RR out of New Hope, PA, every chance I got.  Little short (touristy) ride a few miles out and back again, but through some beautiful country (whatever the season!)  I even got to go on one of their "dinner trips" (invitation, only, but a friend arranged it for us,) where dinner (complete with wine) was served as the little train chugged along! 

 

And, also thanks for the Poem from Millay.  She's one of my favs!   

While I was reading it, I was thinking about the Millay lines.

 

This poem is so good because it blends the good and the bad about trains: the paradox that although trains mean freedom to some people, they are the antithesis of freedom to others. And of course being compelled to go along a fixed track: what is less like freedom than that?

the paradox of controlled, predicted freedom...but what adventure!  lovely

I have twice traveled from los angeles to michigan by amtrak. Once by the southern route thru arizona and new mexico. the other thru the rockies. There is just something about a long train trip. one of the few times the real world is just turned off.