Storm

The storm comes suddenly, first a strong wind bringing low, slate-gray clouds, then the rain hard against the south and west windows. “The satellite signal has been lost.” The streetlights come on, fooled. The gutters begin to fill and turn into a stream, then a river. A biker pedals furiously, smiling at his being caught unaware, perhaps thinking the faster he goes the less drenched he will get. Thunder rolls overhead, and the rain begins to beat down heavier, moving in sheets along the pavement.

Such sheets of fire, such burst of horrid thunder,
Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never
Remember to have heard.
(Shakespeare, King Lear III.ii)

But just as suddenly as it came, it’s gone. The wind calms, the clouds lighten. The satellite signal is found. The streetlights go out. The rain slows, then stops. Plant pots and a trash can litter the deck. A fire truck, siren screaming, speeds east, following the path of the storm.