The Mossy Viaduct

My wheels clicked rhythmically across a weathered slab of slate, tracing the narrow ridge beside the pool. A fallen pine twig lay arched directly over my rails, its needles forming a fragrant green canopy that brushed softly against my raised pantograph as I eased underneath. Through my panoramic windows, the afternoon light scattered across a carpet of damp emerald moss, making each droplet glow like an individual lantern along my route. I brought my carriages to an idle at the bend, listening to the gentle lap of ripples against the stone foundation below.