Catching the Train in November

<p>The river wasn&rsquo;t frozen that night,<br /> not yet, though it was snowing lightly<br /> as I hurried along its concrete banks<br /> through skyscrapers to catch the train<br /> filled with silent passengers eyeing reflections<br /> in dark windows. Chicago floated<br /> over narrow depths in wavering ribbons<br /> of gold, and the water was a kind of ink<br /> I&rsquo;d never seen before. It was grave,<br /> and reverent, that first snow melting<br /> into its uneasy surface &mdash; gone this time,<br /> to be remembered in marble skin<br /> a month later. But it was still November,<br /> and the river was bursting with a thousand lights<br /> as fervent and eager as an empty ballroom<br /> while I caught the train, out of breath</p> <p>and brushing the snow from my hair.</p> <p><a href="https://arcturus.chireviewofbooks.com/catching-the-train-in-november-4e1c091d1fcd"><strong>Website</strong></a></p>
Tags: Train November