“A poem … that uses rhyme, but without adhering to specific line lengths. For extra credit, reference a very specific sound.” (https://www.napowrimo.net/day-nine-11/)
There’s a certain quality
of air
that carries sound
far and fair,
the rattle of trains
intimate and near,
riding tracks five miles away,
Abrupt and clear.
It’s a rhythm almost in time:
Juddering, shuddering,
a mechanical syncopation.
The air changes, sundering
sound, a heavy thick mass,
trains now distant,
now unheard.
John the Librarian 