Ode to a thunderstorm

Tree branches bend to escape the wrathful fury of the howling wind. The sky darkens with ominous gloom. Thunderheads building above, swirling like one eternal whirlwind reaching above, the bottom clat and dark and opppressing. Gusts whip leaves to and fro, cracking limbs like a shot fired through the confusion. A cat streaks across the street in hunt of shelter. The ever-darkening sky seems to sink lower and lower, covering the sheer, cold mountains and reaching nearly to the rooftops, the air thickening with heavy anxiety and a sense of impending doom. Then comes the rain, a single drop, falling through the whirlwind to land in the confusion below, another whipped toward an oncoming car, a third splattering on a broad leaf as it sails through the air, and the storm is all around, the storm is everywhere, the rain has begun and it falls, pelting those below with no discrimination and perfect, pure equality.