A Blustery Wednesday Night
A poem by Diane Funston

A Blustery Wednesday Night

A blustery Wednesday.
The wind roared all night, all day
lonelier than freight trains
twice as fast as fickle men,
howling like women left behind.

We write down lines, parallel
as railroad tracks, crossing only at intersections
to prevent a derailment
or other disaster
you never see coming,
until it happens
and you are thrown again

to the other side of the tracks,
opposite side of the mountain,
down in the valley below.
You may land at the cafe again,
listen past the wind to words and music.

A Wednesday Open Mic night.
You may hear words that soothe the hard night,
or a slow-hand twelve string that melts your heart.
Warmed by kind eyes and familiar faces
you feel so much better
when the wind sings along
and the railroad backs poetry.

About the Author:

Diane Funston has been published in journals including California Quarterly, Synkronicity, San Diego Poetry Annual, Whirlwind, F(r)iction, Tule Review, and Lake Affect Magazine , among others.

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