A brightly guttering light draws me to the window.

Raindrops rebound from the sputtering street,

As a solitary, hunching figure runs, splashing, towards a waiting car,

Clutching a coat collar at the neck.

A grumbling bass growls in the darkness.

I look up again as the sky is slashed

With a streaking, silvery laceration.

A dissonant dull roaring again rolls across the sky,

Scant moments after the lightning’s lambent luminesence.

I open the door and stand transfixed,

Revelling in the pulsating potency of the tempest.

Gradually, I notice the dull drumming of the downpour,

Forming a pattering, pounding undercurrent to the storm.

The ominous, looming layers fleetingly part,

Allowing a gauzy glimpse of the crescent moon to emerge,

Peeking through the roiling rainclouds.

As I step out, my arms outstretched to the sky,

The impelling intensity of the deluge

Seems, almost impossibly, to increase further.

Head angled up, eyes closed, the torrent runs across my cheeks.

I sputter out the water that dribbles between my lips

With the unfathomable force of the falling flood.

The lightning slithers savagely across the heavens once more,

And the thunder thrums again, more rapidly this time.

The storm is getting closer.

Exulting in the imperious power of the elements,

I linger a few moments longer, luxuriating in this sensation.

I turn back inside, away from the spectacular storm,

And close the door.