The Back Porch (#15)

HALF-WAY THERE!!! It's taken way too long to get to this point. Too bad I work so much. (That's not why. It's because I'm lazy.)
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   The blue sky is peeking from behind swift-moving, grey-bellied clouds. A large bird of prey is circling in the sky, its dark wings stretched to embrace the warm upward-rush of air.
   The trees have lost much of their green coverings, stretching thin, naked fingers towards the heavens. The little plant on the back porch mimics the trees, its spiny little leaves turning brownish and thin. Dead leaves are scattered thickly on the grass below, and a few have found their rest on the cold stone of the porch.
   The porch, too, is changing. Patches of sickly yellow-brown have replaced the thin smears of almost-moss that struggled through the summer. The cement has acquired new, darker splotches where someone was careless while painting a project.
   Between the thinning leaves, blue, brown and red flashes by as a train rumbles behind the concealing foliage. The trees shake with the wind of it, the bush branches tremble with the heavy sound.  The train is slowing, sighing and groaning as it pulls to a stop. The beginning and the end are invisible from my vantage point. The train is infinite, waiting for an unknown signal. The trees hold their breath, and for the moment, even the racing clouds have paused.