Startled from your solitude you wave,
reflexive-
your great iron machine cries out a foriegn breath
carried since Halifax and the prairie grass
sways and dreams of being an ocean
in the moment of your passing.
More people, I am sure, have walked on the moon
have plumbed the depths of the sea and known shipwrecks ,
earth receding either way
than have known this peculiar vastness.
Deer interlope in town, browsing
medians and gas station boulevards
insouciantly
where still, there are no people,
just us hurtling into a punched purple sky and waving
now to coyotes pouncing in mice
amongst wheat stalks and swans
who beat their wings and sing
such an alien song.