Four o'clock like a mother cradled the train.
The moment offered a kaleidoscope -
cellphone-tappings, perfume, sweat-odors, the strain
stamped on faces, high-heeled shoes, chic dresses,
a woman weeping after a call,
a rustling newspaper, raven tresses,
and advertisements on the wall...
A blind man with a small radio walked by,
tapping a stick on the floor, holding a cap
while two toddlers were taking a nap.
The train was slowing, like a question being cast...
The doors slid open, an answer found at last
on the platform as a sunlight-spell
spreading its love to the grass,
to the farmland, rice furrows, fresh autumn smell.
No one walked out, walked in: a lovely space
briefly, modestly, and delicately
hinted at something like a delightful dream,
lent all faces, gestures dignity and grace...