Summer Storm

The summer storm comes a rumbling
At 45 miles-per-hour landspeed...

A flat-land thrill indeed.

We hear it before we see it,
Sitting on lawn chairs,
Baked in the latent late-afternoon heat
From cemented driveway squares...

And when it comes,
It's a monster wall of gray-white cloud
Rolling towards us, with intent,
That would do a tsunami proud...

And then it HITS,
A cold-air slap of wind-shower,
That BLOWS-AWAY the heat
And humidity, with convective power,
Rain lashing the street!
Rumbles and lightning blasts!

So we sit and watch,
With shock and awe,
While it lasts.