The Summer Storm

The storm clouds were brewing
The summer heat built to boiling point
And the hot sticky feeling that is Southern Ontario
Caused nerve endings to spark blue murder
Sweat poured through me like maple syrup
Maybe that is why my clothes
Gripped my skin in a steamy, feverish, inferno.
But the clouds gathered slowly
In their various shapes and shades of grey,
Some even black and threatening
But the only true threat is that the clouds
would only pass right on by
without shedding any relief
Even making the heat grow more intense
More humid, hazy and stifling.
This heat slows your pace
But I stick it out underground
In my basement I stay
But with the first clap of thunder
Echoes through the air
I emerge from my midsummer hibernation
from this torridity I cannot bare
these furnace like conditions that stress me
to my very core and strip me of my humanity
For this I plead to you, oh god of thunder, Thor
Don’t tease me with the roar of static electricity
For my anticipation for this cloudburst
grows ever stronger within me
And then
It happened
A drop of moister hit my cheek 
Quickly followed by many
More in very quick succession
A torrent of dampness pelts me over and over
it dazzled my senses with the
Cool fluid sensation of ecstasy surrounded
And I held my hands up high above my head
And gave thanks for the water that soaked me through
Making the weather, all that more bearable.