An unusual crowd gathers

I can make out faces through every window

Blank, staring, sea of faces

Eyes fixed on the hillside across the way

My house seems only an obstruction

An optical obstacle obscuring an oncoming out pour

Unblinking they look at that overgrown hill

Where the wild brush spreads and those old rails stay planted

Stretching east to west

Those ******* rails that those ******* trains

would rumble down at four in the morning

Blaring their horns and shaking my bed

Until the sun woke up on schedule, like clockwork

Over and down the hillside, water starts to trinkle

Slipping and sliding

How ghastly it grows

From stream to spout

to rivers with rapids

Until the tidal wave shows its face - blank, staring

Eyes fixed on me

In the face of the end, I turn and flee

So many loved ones and trinkets to save

But the water is up to my knees

And the crowd - unmoving, unthinking

Without a gasp or a word of dismay

They open their mouths to drink in the doom

Parched since the prelude for the secession of air

Too late for nostalgia

Impact.

Empty handed the crow and dove shall return