April 28 without something

Without the train’s whistle,
I wouldn’t look up every so often,
asking, what’s that music?
Is an organ playing somewhere?
I wouldn’t think of Emily Dickinson
hearing the same train a little ways
down the track, some time ago
or remember the retired librarian
who gave a little wave and a smile,
and jumped in front of the train.
Without the train’s whistle,
I’d likely forget the music of distance.