Way-Station

The incoherent rushing of the train

Dulls like a drugged pain

Numbs

To an ether throbbing of inaudible drums

Unfolds

Hush within hush until the night withholds

Only its darkness.

From the deep

Dark a voice calls like a voice in sleep

Slowly a strange name in a strange tongue.

Among

The sleeping listeners a sound

As leaves stir faintly on the ground

When snow falls from a windless sky—

A stir A sigh