eight gates

in the wee hours we wait

as the rumble comes along

behold the passing ferried freight

rolling wheels extoll their song

before us stand eight gates

‘tween thundering trundling throng

our urgent missions all abated

with five engines this string is long

at the first gate of the eight

haughty heightened springs and shocks

beside them a modest wheeled crate

with roll-down windows, push down locks

we pile behind and watch the freight

boxcars, tankers, and some flats

on their ways to important dates

to replenish exhausted stocks

above the streaming strand

nigh-endless expanse of night

watches over expectant lands

indigo oracle awaits the light

About Brad Werner

Technical Evangelist
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