From a Wet Porch Step

In the amber street light
under the rain,
the clouded night;
red stop sign, then green;
twiddle in the rain drain;
twirping car alarm from thunder,
then a flash;
a rain drop beside you.
The roof is giving way.

Trickle drip down the cheek,
over the bone to your chin.
How many times
will this bird chirp again?

Flutter of thunder
in the clouds -
not as loud as
the rain splats
in the mud;
on the shoe;
through the laces.
It's late, morning.
A car drives by
and stops at the red light.

Eyelids fall as hard as the rain.
A car drives by again.
What must be started at this hour?

This Sunday morning,
church pews will hold fewer families,
but the priest will be there.