storm

i have never seen such sustained violence. the rain bombards the road; it's evening now, and all that's visible is in headlights and the streetlamp's glow, but this fury cannot be masked. it would be an indignity to try.

there are deceptive periods, when the traffic lights turn red and no cars are moving by. the lone lamp outside my window is too dim to illuminate the pelted drops, and it seems as if nature had to catch her breath, though i know that cannot be; this storm cannot possibly stop.
and the sky lights up, a purple anvil dropped through the earth in milliseconds.

the headlights are back, and the white spray and bullets of water dive with the same consistent rage.

why is it all silent?

nature can pick and choose from her arsenal. the lack of sound, of an audible tempest, is likely more unnerving than a hurricane's noise would be.

the cars, though, are invincible. they swoosh through the miniature flood across the road, leaving a sense of security, of normalcy in their sonar wakes.

swoosh, go the headlights. sometimes, an engine's rumble can be heard... but there's almost always a streak of lightning to counteract, and the growing flood is impossible to ignore in the cars' lamps.