The train always arrives late, but the platform feels different now

I stood on the edge of the tracks this morning, not waiting for a train, just watching the light bleed through the trees. The air was thick with that stillness before a storm—no birds, no cars, just the hum of wires above. I used to think doubt was something to be overcome. Now I think it’s more like a kind of listening. Like how you can’t hear the wind until it starts to move the leaves.