Sleeping on the train under the full moon

Riding the train, I slept in a Lower Berth as I did in childhood. Snug behind closed curtains, I raised the blind, watching as the train hurtled through the vast Canadian wilderness.

The full moon illuminated wavelets on a dark river, and lit patterns of cloud and trees. As we travelled, the train rocked me into a magical sleep. When we paused on sidings to wait for freight trains to pass, I woke as the rhythmic movement of the train stopped, then watched the long strings of cars roar by.