We rolled through Minnesota,
North Dakota, and Montana
on purposeful rails, following
the promise of an open West.
No wagons or horses or death
by cholera or exposure. No
conflict with Indigenous tribes
as we imposed on their land.
Great spaces unfurled outside
our window until night
cloaked the horizon’s expanse.
Everything was new to us
in our unhindered progress.
We arrived at our destination.
A trainload of false entitlement.
Before the wagon wheel,
before the ribbons of iron
and the last spike,
these mountains and plains
knew only eternity. The young
hooves of bison and horses.
This is amazing, Matt! This makes you want to hop a train and head west! To quote my wife, “This is beautifully written!”.