In a Heartbeat...

Ba bump ba bump ba bump ba bump…

my heart races at eighty-five beats per minute;

faster as I push myself to finish what I’m doing

so I can move on to something else.

I set the bar high, my own expectations higher—

the fear of restructure, replacement remains

a ghostly shadow hiding in a corner of my mind;

for I know all too well that I am dispensable,

that it’s never about the work, but the bottom line.

I‘ve wondered, how does one pace oneself?

Is there even such a thing?

Acutely aware that at this age, this stage

life should be about slowing down,

enjoying each moment…

unsure if this is wearing me down

or keeping my mind alert; keeping me young.

I am reminded on a daily basis

of how life can change in a heartbeat;.

So, like the ‘Little Engine That Could’

  I keep chugging away while I still can

...ba bump ba bump ba bump ba bump ba bump.

© Ginny Brannan 2017

On the Rail

Pulled this older piece up to share at The Mag #185.

I love the sound

of trains…

the “whoosh-shhhh”

as the brakes disengage

the “chuh . . .chuh . . .chuh . . .”

as those pistons start

moving, slowly picking

up speed, hear the

clickety-clack, clickety-clack

as steel rolls against steel.

Watching farmland,

small towns,  cities

roll by; a shared

communion with

travelers fifty,

seventy-five,

a hundred

years ago.

Coal cinders have

given way to

electricity;

polished wood,

velvet and brass           

to steel, vinyl

and chrome.

My uncle was

a trainman;

riding the rail

is in my blood.

In the distance,

I hear that

lone whistle

calling,

my heart quickens…

“Aaaall aboaardd!!

© Ginny Brannan September 2011

Train Station, my hometown Bellows Falls, VT

Rockwell Image shared by Tess Kincaid, she provides the image, we the story. 

Originally shared at dVerse Poetics, 2011: Sorry I missed the Train_n_n_n_n  with Claudia on Poetics this past weekend.