Under the leaves

Why does the rain smell like cinnamon?
Steamy, thickened in distrust;
Clearing the air with haunts of rightness.
Surprise like drops -
fat, boisterous drops -
Patters my face my hair my neck.
Bewildered thunder rumbles in solitary certainty.
The rain smells like cinnamon.
It smells like angered hearts and falling memories
And love and dancing.
If the rain smells like cinnamon,
The time has come for happiness.