Distance
Distance
is a common thing
I never stop
not noticing.
Ubiquitous,
yet rarely seen,
it’s near and far
and in between.
But in the dark
of middle night
the whistle of a train
just might
remind me of
how far away
my loves and dreams
and light of day.
Or maybe drunk in
nectar’d throes
a Swallowtail
flits past my nose.
Perception
unanticipated
makes distance
more appreciated.
Thus surprise
of distance sliced
in arc and circle
chopped and diced
makes eye aware
like ear to song
of what was there
all along.
With thanks to photographer S.W. Berg,
submitted to Dan Antion’s
Oddments 
May 13, 2024 at 11:20 am
👏👏 I applaud your ability to move words around and amaze us with the results. I bow to your superior word skills. 🙂 Happy Monday.
May 13, 2024 at 12:16 pm
Thanks, Judy! And a happy Monday to you too!
May 13, 2024 at 12:12 pm
This is a lovely poem, Maureen, and you’ve done a great job capturing what I feel is the essence of this image. I’ve been studying it since you submitted it, wondering where it really goes. I love your take on distance. I frequently hear a train whistle in the distance at night. I know exactly where it is at each point, but it doesn’t seem that it can be that far away. Thanks for another delightful entry to the challenge.
May 13, 2024 at 12:20 pm
Thanks, Dan. I really like this photo, and I was glad to have a chance to think about it again. That train in the night is almost a human sound, and, despite its lonesomeness, I’ve always liked it. In some ways it’s a comfort. Weird. The Doors Challenge this year has really startled my lazy muse. Thanks for poking her!
May 13, 2024 at 12:49 pm
This challenge has poked a few people, myself included. As for the train whistle, it is comforting, even when it wakes me up during the night, I feel better.
May 13, 2024 at 1:08 pm
Train whistles and muse-pokings — all comforting!
May 13, 2024 at 12:33 pm
Maureen, you are an amazing wordsmith. You truly bring this photo to life! When I was growing up I could hear the train whistles off in the distance. Loved hearing those whistles, wondering where the train was bound and the people on it. You certainly captured the essence of distance.
Ginger🦋
May 13, 2024 at 12:40 pm
Thank you, Ginger! Growing up where I did, there were train whistles night and day, and those in the night were always intriguing. I wondered the same as you about who and where. The train whistles during the day mostly just blew out my eardrums and were not so intriguing!
May 13, 2024 at 12:50 pm
I was sitting here thinking the same thing…..how irritatingly loud those whistles were during the day, but not so at night. It seems like it should’ve been the other way around….sounding louder at night when it’s otherwise quiet. 🤔
Ginger🦋
Sent from my iPad
>
May 13, 2024 at 1:11 pm
I never thought of that, but you’re right.
May 13, 2024 at 2:06 pm
Maureen–this is wonderful. The door photos this year are such a great and varied lot, but this one intrigued me. You have done it justice–and more. I hope S.W. Berg loves your words as much as I do.
May 13, 2024 at 3:42 pm
Thanks, Lois! I hope he does too! I think it’s a great photo, and I agree that the door contributions this year are exceptional as prompts. Yay for door people!
May 13, 2024 at 3:49 pm
This is lovely, Maureen. Most uplifting at the end.
May 13, 2024 at 6:27 pm
Thanks, Robbie. This is such a great photo.
May 14, 2024 at 4:20 pm
I’m glad to see you’re on top form. ‘I never stop / not noticing’ gave me pause, especially as I have you down as one of the best noticers I know.
May 14, 2024 at 4:37 pm
Thanks, Susan! I seem to have a talent for not seeing the obvious. Others have observed this in me. But I say that when you’re busy thinking great thoughts you can’t be bothered with the wall you’re about to walk into.
May 14, 2024 at 4:40 pm
I don’t know – I wouldn’t recommend that. I walked slap into a wall once in the full view of a crowd of blokes watching football on TV. Luckily they were too occupied to notice my not noticing.
May 14, 2024 at 4:56 pm
I can but sympathize. Obviously you also were busy thinking great thoughts.
May 14, 2024 at 4:59 pm
I can’t claim I was. I was sure I’d broken my nose, but luckily I hadn’t.
May 16, 2024 at 3:05 am
I read your contribution a number of times. I enjoyed this poetic piece very much!
May 16, 2024 at 9:12 am
Thank you!
May 17, 2024 at 12:48 am
This is lovely, Maureen — and goes so well with the photo. Hugs.
May 17, 2024 at 11:17 am
Thanks, Teagan!