In the distance I hear a train.

Outside my window I hear the rain.

I feel the tracks as if they were near.

The pounding rain makes one fear.

Whistle blowing by each stop.

Rain hits harder drop by drop.

Wheels are spinning round and round.

Clouds breed thunder that pound and pound.

Engine streaking by people and cars.

Lighting crashes shaking the jars.

Light and signs go up and down.

Sirens and whistles blow all over town.

Screeching breaks as it slows.

Distant flashes as the storm goes.

Trailing lights from the last car.

I hear more thunder and count how far.

Roads open and traffic begins to clear.

A break in the clouds makes one cheer.

In the distance a lone whistle blows.

Off to the West a new storm grows.  

~ Brendan T. Kelly