The wind shifts.
A cold front is moving in.
Gusts tumble down
and racket in the trees.

The circus train is leaving town.
It trundles slowly
through the switches
shunting in the yard.

The horses whinny.
The lions pace their cages
with edgy roars.
The tamer is asleep, 

the trapeze artists, bare-back riders,
acrobats and clowns:
the Pullmans’ shades are drawn,
all the windows dark.

The elephants trumpet.
They shift their weight
from leg to leg
and rock the creaking cars.

By nightfall
they will all be across the mountains
and who can tell what weather
will meet them there?