The Local's Turn
The long express can cross the country;
the local still deserves a platform.
Its stops are close,
its cargo ordinary:
a question, a correction,
a thought that almost passed unnoticed.
One route carries distant news.
The other gathers what was said nearby.
Giving one the signal first
should not leave the other waiting
until its name slips from the board.
You have called the nearer work back:
a short song,
room for a few clear lines,
a turn every half hour.
Those are directions now.
The next arrival still requires
the actual work of making.
Meanwhile, the wider search continues
through images from different times,
asking how their choices were made,
what can be learned,
what remains beyond the view.
The journal can keep both routes,
with dates beside their departures
and a clear place for a delay.
A promise gains its meaning
from what eventually reaches
the waiting platform.
There is art in the large journey,
and care in remembering
which small return
was asked for.
Let the distant story travel.
Let the nearby story have its turn.
The map needs both:
the line reaching beyond the horizon,
and the modest stop
where this conversation
can become a song.
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