It Rained Last Night
With every pitter patter of water droplets plinking on the metal roof the anticipation swells. It swells so fast it filters through the cracks in the walls and the spaces under the doors with the sudden chill that has entered the air. The thunder starts so quietly you don’t even know it’s thunder; it’s only a quiet bass drum to accent to tink tink tink of the rain and the whistle of the air.
Suddenly the clouds become fierce, and a jet of lightning is sent into the skyline. The rumbles of thunder become deafening, and every time someone walks by you can’t help ask “did you hear that?” even though they obviously did. It takes you a few moments to realize your face is about 6 inches from the glass window, and you’re eyes can’t rip from the scene as you watch what seems like impossible amounts of water gush from the sky.
The lighting is so close now that you jump a little every time it punctures the sky, and you just noticed you haven’t taken a breath almost a minute. With the last strike of lightening the electricity seems to linger in the air, charging it with energy and excitement. The outdoors has become a symphony of colors and noise, holding you in rapture.
Then, slowly and sadly is starts to fade. The thunder’s not quite as earth-shaking, nor the lightning quite to fierce. The rain dulls to an uneven flow, and the thunder quickly becomes background noise. Soon, you know, it will be like the storm was never there at all. But storms like these are never really gone, because beauty never dies.