Train Valentine

On the late morning train
from Paris to Switzerland
we sat staring out the window
searching for the France
of our patchy imaginations
which were looking strangely Minnesotan
when suddenly a sign flashed
Citeaux just a green field
I could see no ruins
no habitation
on either side the train
refused to stop though the monks
kept singing for us I assumed
Salve Regina so fast but that
was in another century
and we in someone else’s arms.