The Landing

The sky broke, sudden,

a hard sheet of rain.

I stepped onto the wooden

porch, again.

Watched the street clear out,

cars going fast,

a quick, cold shout

from the storm, meant to last.

Water pooled on the concrete,

darkened the wood rail.

A cold, sweet

smell in the gale.

And me, just sitting here,

between the house and the wet,

holding something clear

I haven't named yet.