The rail way.

0700: pull out from Canberra station. It’s drizzling and the cloud hangs in low sadness around the wide sweeps. Soon the mist breaks before blue-cream granite gorges. An ancient serpent, the tea brown Molonglo river, follows for a while as we squeak and bounce and roll out. I have both seats to myself (at least for a while) and skitch over for the window win. Coffee cupped in hand steams the glass as I press my face in watching: Old barbed wire gates, rusted signs, rolling tussock hills. Wattle. Gum. Blackberry bush. Crow. And the discarded jetsam of railroad business. Mobs of roo and clumps of deer startle as we pass. There are plenty of skittish newborns amongst them. I read for a while. And watch for a while. There may have been a nap. Soon enough I arrive.