Oh, listen to that thunder.

My bones crave a sound like that

To fill them with rainwater

And make me glow with lightning.

My heartbeat finds the rhythm of the drops.

The tinny sound as they strike the roof,

The deep twang as they hit the puddles

So hard they churn.

It is a tactile experience, like a well said poem,

It touches.

It touches me, and I want it.

I hunger for the rain on a level I don’t understand.

I need it in a way that there’s no word for

Because the senses so often steal the feeling.

But beyond sense,

I love the rain like it’s a part of my mind, my soul,

Like my veins are the little rivers of water

That run down the pavement

Like my eyes are storm clouds

And my lips tender as new grass buffeted by a downpour.

I want to be the storm,

Not to have it, not to own it,

Not even only to experience it,

But to be the same as it

And feel the kind of freedom

That a humming growl of distant thunder must.