Summer Rainstorm

Summer dusk.
The sky glows of orange-red and deep purple.
Trees sway and bend in the approaching night breeze.
The air feels heavy; it hints at change.
At last,
The sun hides behind the horizon.
Purple consumes the land.
Winds whip at the scattered houses
All closed up for the onslaught of torrential downpour.
Standing in the midst of it all.
Hear it? The deep rumble?
It's getting closer. . . .
The drops fall one by one, gathering power
Swirling with the screaming wind.
It's cold . . . so cold, but it makes one feel alive.
Chilling water seeps into bones
Clinging to the once warm skin.
Silence follows.
The screaming winds die, the rumbles barely decipherable.
The night sounds return.
Alone standing in the midst of it all.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem