The Storm

The black clouds are abundant this warm, August night.... An approaching summer storm slowly makes it way past... I can smell the rain, yet it's not quite here. I hear the distant thunder, as lightening's shadows casts... It could go around us depriving us of rain... It could dissipate before it's fury slams and tosses us... It could simply disappear showing naked, blue skies... It could pass by like a stranger on a crowded bus... Oh.There's the cool wind. Are you coming soon? Are you coming to drench us, or will you just causally loom?