Upon Gazing Out a Train Window

My eyes
my whole Being
a live camera
with no film
to record or to remember
the thousands of trees
the vast dirt fields
the stubble
the long-ago-fallen trees.
Sunlight sprinkles itself
over the surfaces of
winding waterways.

No film to show
only my Body
recording
the land
the furrows of
the fields the gray
clouds
The platinum
glow of our sun.

My eyes
approve.
My Body
has it.

Elizabeth Morana