Riding Metro North. With Salamander’s moments.


7 am to Grand Central.

The red under belly of the salamander is still close. I unfurl my fingers and let him scamper. Each minute, each moment whisked away along with the swish of his tail.

Two seats in front, a silver haired man flips open a large, hard covered book, dark navy cover – so rare to see a real book. His index finger slides down the page, followed by the rustle of the page turn, a sound produced only from something grown from the Earth.

A lady, across from him wears a grape colored knitted hat, fluffy pom-pom on top, backpack on her lap. Her head leans against window, she’s fast asleep, her mouth partially open, breathing softly.

Man down the aisle, his head swaying, large muffs cover his ears, noise canceling head phones streaming, perhaps a tribute to Chuck Berry, or something soulful, the deep baritone of Barry White with Let the Music Play.

The conductor, his uniform snug around the abdomen, comes down the aisle, offering a kind smile, patient for those scrambling to find their tickets.

The neon sign overhead flashes: Next stop. Harlem – 125th St.  10 minutes from Grand Central.

I close my eyes. The morning sun pierces through the eyelids. The speeding train passes trees and buildings which break the light, but it comes. My world moving to light, again and again and again. I stand under a shower of light.

Just another Monday. A new day. J. B. Priestley’s “delight at the prospect of a new day, a fresh try, one more start, with perhaps a bit of magic waiting somewhere behind the morning.”

And yet it seems that magic has already struck.

With the unfurling of the hand, and the flash of the salamander.

“Each minute the last minute.”



  1. The Portland Monday-Monday has yet to see the sun. Overcast and cloudy. Predicted rain. More rain. Again. And yet again…although seeping through the atmosphere…words from afar. Word images of a day beginning three hours from now. Words that lift and buoy with promise. A beginning somewhere else. Not here but there. Expectations. High ones.
    Yes, thank you.
    I’ll have some of that…..

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Seems like you felt the magic already – what a way to greet the day

    Liked by 1 person

  3. What a fabulous description of a Monday morning commute. I almost wish I had a reason to be on the same Metro! Almost.
    I’ll just have to savour my Monday morning in the glorious sunshine provided, my faithful Zeke by my side, “forcing” me to stop and listen and watch and learn and simple be…

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Life is a long string of salamander moments. These were showered by light…and very enjoyable.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Savouring every moment. Great observation of detail.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. WordPress is forgetting to send you to me, so I went looking. And this lush, quiet gift awaits, a healing balm, a clean and easy breath when my lungs are struggling. Another reminder that I’m ok, no matter what. That all I need do is open my finger and let the salamander be.

    Liked by 2 people

  7. I see you’re keeping a promise you made to yourself at the end of this,



    Liked by 2 people

  8. “The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” W.B. Yeats

    Liked by 1 person

  9. i love your description of the ‘real book.’ may you always feel the shower of the rays of light upon you.

    Liked by 1 person

  10. great post; felt like I was on the train with you…

    Liked by 1 person

  11. Anything grown from the earth is good for us. Love your light filled writing today Mr K. 😎

    Liked by 1 person

  12. roseanne333 says:

    Loved this D, especially “And yet it seems that magic has already struck.” Happy Spring at long last.

    Liked by 1 person

  13. Thank you David for warming words and characters that evoke magic. 💛

    Liked by 1 person

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