The Twentieth Time

Ominous funnel-clouds of grit
whirled into mouths and nostrils,
provoking universal asthma,
clogging controls and monitors,
and grinding through the circuits.
The catatonic silence of computers
opened a second age of steam.
At night the swarms blacked out
street lamps and traffic lights.
Nothing moved. At last, the twentieth
time ran out. After it had sluiced
away the debris of fallen stickers,
the downpour stopped abruptly.
The twentieth time masks again
in probability, the odds unchanged.
Some close umbrellas,
some cross themselves,
some take the plane to Winnipeg.