Perspective

I could fly
but the train will take longer
and I need time

to think . . .

As wide landscapes
of Nevada desert
blur bronze through my window,
I curl up in my seat with a book
that reads blank,
my focus inward . . .
What will I tell him?

From west coast to east,
I wind my way around decision
as the train weaves its own path
to Denver, Chicago,
on to New York.
He wants to know if I will stay, make a home with him,
but my job in New York . . .

Rattling into Penn Station,
we arrive underground.
The conductor asks,
“Is this your final stop?”
“Maybe,” I say, suitcase in hand,
though at that moment I know it isn’t.

With a call to my landlord
and one to my boss,
I buy a ticket . . .

for the plane trip back
home.

Betty Naegele Gundred

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Betty Naegele Gundred has enjoyed writing since high school when she was editor of her school’s literary magazine, though she taught middle school science for twenty years. Her work has appeared or will soon appear in publications such as Current, The Heron’s Nest, Frogpond, Last Leaves, Months to Years, Orchards Poetry Journal, and Open Door Magazine. Betty lives with her husband in the Sierra Foothills of Northern California and enjoys Zumba, hiking, and photography.

• From a Distance
• A Crack in the Darkness