It’s a rare thing here
To smell the dry ground
As thunderclouds form
In the ozone heat of a summer’s day
Freshets of misty raindrops spill forth
The clouds recede
In the distance as I gain the hilltop
I’m in time to see a rainbow arc across the sky
A sky that’s clad in glowing clouds of battleship gray
Ripped occasionally to reveal
Towering white puffballs
They rumble
Rumble with Olympian force
Rumble with discontent
Rumble out a warning
So I retreat
Remembering the secateurs at my hip
Other metal items that could be a bad idea
On open ground
On a hilltop
In a thunderstorm
But it’s hard not to stay
Bear witness to the tale being played
Listen to the thunder
Track the lightning flashes
As elemental forces clash
Yet I retreat once more
And take shelter behind my door
As the thunder rumbles
Roars
Lightning illuminates with intensity
Then silence
The clouds darken
The rumbling begins again
Like a heavyweight fight
Destined to go the distance
No hold barred
David Trudel © 2012
createdavidt 
Heh, I was writing a poem about this same storm.
I like it.
Enjoy the thunder and lightning.
Very cool, it’s hard not to. It makes up for not going to see the Tragically Hip, but I hope the show doesn’t get interrupted.
I love the raw power of thunderstorms. You capture it well here.
and the smell. That ozone, dust settling smell. Evocative. Elemental.
I might have kept going but I kept thinking the power might go out, or that the keyboard would blow up. I think we’ve had a few very close calls tonight – boom followed by flash as the ground shakes.
Thanks for the support my friends.
This will be a terrific blog, would you be interested in doing an interview about just how you developed it? If so e-mail me! 768735
Thanks!