trainyard (after work)
This morning, I walked to work under an arch of fish-scale clouds and blue sky. The trainyard in the sun was hot, with its rocks radiating heat from the sun. Tonight, as I walked back through the trainyard on my way home, it was cold and rainy. Each wet stone reflected the light from the city lights. The bridge on Holgate Ave. floated above the wet shine of all the tracks, and I felt a sense of utter contentment and the feeling that all is the way it should be in the world.