Flew home this winter evening,
the Northwest wind blowing me along with swollen banks of raincloud.

Timed my exit to a nicety, darting out into rain-slippery streets
between driving downpours

Ducked wind-shaken trees as they shed drops big as bullets,
Danced across intersections, and wove through coated-and-capped crowds

Got to the station to find storm-panicked throngs cramming themselves
Onto my train like it was the last ride out of Armageddon.

Saw the driver watching them with tired blue eyes and asked him:
“Is this the last train to Simonstown….ever?”

He smiled, shook his head, then winked and said:
“There are PLENTY of trains coming….”