.

I imagine her as she might have been then...
bustling crowds teeming around her
high society ladies waiting to climb aboard
small dogs at their feet; watching the vendors closely
hoping for a dropped bit of something delicious
And what of those vendors... their arms full of flowers and the like...
shoe shine stands and newspaper carts...
And those neatly dressed porters; their carts full of luggage
covered with stickers from foreign countries
bursting at the seems with linens much too fine for daily tea parties
or meetings with the upper crust
smelling of lavender
fresh from the fields
near the acequias of the great Rio Grande
feeding those parched desert flats to bare fruit once more
thru which these fine steam miracles will travel
over the rails
around the mountains
through the Native land ... wild horses in view
and the vibrant cities...
church bells ringing
children running along the tracks
fading into the sunset
as her whistle pierces the silence

((photo is from our trip up to Santa Fe the other day))