Sick travelling day, this day unravels
Landscapes and hopes like wrack; and listen
How the wheels race like suns in a steel heaven.
Day between days and given neither
To you nor me, the limbo of our loving;
This day will steal your face, and fasten
A mask of wire around my eager looking.
Forgive each wheel its gesture of repulsion;
And hope that I may sometime find direction;
That we may live at last under a quiet sun
Where no trains but God’s sure thoughts need run.