The world is full of thick curtains of rain
Windows soaked and drooping,
Curtains sagged and bowing.
In the yard, a solitary train
Has stopped upon its tracks
Waiting for lightning to distance itself;
And the conductor breathes a thin breath
Into the moist air
One breath less
Then the soggy gray bird perched near.
Mud boots, cold shoes, thin pants, dim thoughts
Sitting in one car there
Waiting for the rain to end,
Looking out past track and bend.