Thunderstorm

When rainclouds gather, they band together.

Slowly, and seemingly from nothing, the air rises,

Coaxed and summoned by the supple layers of heat

Straddling, surrounding, engulfing.

Wind whispers words of encouragement,

Secretively, strokes the curves and coils of air

Twisting, breathing it, leading it upwards, inwards, onwards.

The world stills and holds its breath.

Beads of moisture form and the air is dense

With the smell of anticipation.

Darkening and tensing, throwing shadows like whips,

Sending vibrations down a billion spines,

Chills a thousand times over; it’s warm, it’s stifling.

The wind moves in a rhythm only it could ever know,

It whirls and spins, and licks away nervous perspiration,

Taking in novice precipitation,

It moans, howls and creaks through the night like

Bare feet on a hidden staircase.

It demands attention, warning of what’s coming,

And slowly it makes the fragmented whole.

Droplets join together and the air becomes wetter,

Heavier, harder, and it tastes vaguely like salt.

Whole bodies quiver at its passes and the wind

Moulds and shapes, moving in, out and around,

Condensing energy into one dense, deep spot,

Building and building,

The wind blows faster,

And faster,

And when rain clouds gather, they band together.

Flailing strands merge, blend, tighten,

Hold so close they can never let go it seems,

And the wind keeps pushing,

And the clouds keep pulling,

It’s a frenzied dance of heat, of electricity, of sound,

A loud crack –

A massive surge –

A release.

Simultaneously sweet,

And the most painful thing ever created.

The rain comes down in anguished torrents of relief.

Wind guiding, earth waiting.

The world breathes.

Thunderstorm.

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