Night Riding

As the coaches shake
Along the rickety tracks
Through the New England countryside
A woman laughs an eerie laugh in time to the shaking train  

The leaves turn from summer into fall
And are surely haunted in the evening time.

The water shimmers and reflects the moon,
The only light as the time ticks to the tune.

The barks of the trees howl to the light,
Their faces contorting into demons of the night.  

The blackened sky surrenders blue
7am, Boston, the Acela is due.