Coming rain

I close my eyes and resist the stiff wind, enjoying the feeling of it tugging at my shirt and tustling with my hair. A sudden gust forces my eyes back open simply to retain my balance. I inhale deeply and taste the sharp mixture of fresh air cleaned by the coming rain and the pugnent - yet strangely intoxicating - scent of wet asphalt. The charcoal grey clouds are moving closer by the second, boiling over the backdrop of a blue sky that appeared so serene only moments before. Somewhere close the ominous sound of thunder sends shivers down my spine, shivers not of fear but simply wonder at the power and mystery of the thunder. My cheek is stung by a tiny raindrop, whipped forcibly at me by the strengthening wind. I wonder for a split second if it was a stray raindrop, somehow seperated from the bulk of the storm and driven to me by the wind, or if it was the first in line to fall directly over me, a harbinger of his brothers, eagerly awaiting their drop or perhaps free-falling already. I chuckle at myself for such a random thought and focus instead on watching the lightning, I see a flash out of the corner of my eye but it leaves as quickly as it came and I cannot turn my head quickly enough to feel as though I actually saw it. I had never really stopped to consider it before, but I quickly realize that try as I might it is impossible to watch a bolt from inception to retreat. This frustrates me, but in the end simply serves as a reminder to me of my own limitations. The warehouse at my back is hot and stuffy and I am disinclinded to leave this moment, but duty calls and with a final sweep of my eyes, I reluctantly return to work and wait for the rain.