13 miles to catch a train
Yes, I know Auchencastle
with its valley streaked with metal.
Summer freight rattles dusty heat,
winter Virgins run in snow
yards from my front door.
Cats mouse and stroll parallel
like platelayers on inspection,
Keepers of the West Coast line.
Moffat’s ghost train of the 50’s
fades to scissored timetables
and Beattock stations phantoms
so I cannot catch a train.
So, yes I know Auchencastle, but
(for now) I drive to Lockerbie.
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