Rider on Her Storm

The thunderstorm came down on her
in all it’s naked glory
lightning shaft striking hard
thunder vibrating deep and violent
causing her to sit straight up in bed
painted nails clutching electrified air
bed rocking from the shear winds
awash in an undulating sea of sheets
pillow a life preserver between open thighs
riding the tempest to its height 
cool dry air invading her cove
colliding with most air of her jungle
thunderheads building
higher and higher
until rains spill from the heavens
rivulets building, collecting 
drenching her in a flash flood of ecstasy 
thunder pounding in her brain
each brilliant stroke arching her body
until she falls exhausted
counting the flashing explosions
racing from finger tips to curled toes
“one-thousand-one….
one-thousand-one, one-thousand-two….”
the storm passing
fading slowly into the darkened horizon