A dark night in June,

humid air,

the clouds gather,

the smell of thunder,

not a soul on the street.

The first drop falls,

ping

upon the car.

Steadily it comes,

the heavens oven

and pour out their watery fury.

Jagged flashes across the sky

and deep crashes like muffled explosions

send children running to the bed

to dive under,

their small eyes peeping out in horror.

I sit by my window,

rain streaking the glass,

and watch the storm.

A lone branch hangs

strangely from my tree

against the dark night sky,

when suddenly

a flash lights up the night,

turning the harmless branch

into a grasping hand

as the thunder fills the air.

I run from my window in fright

and pull the covers over my head

to wait for the storm to pass,

until at last

the thunder lulls me to sleep

and the storm passes me by.