Defiant

I stand in the middle of the cul-de-sac; barefoot on the pavement, arms reaching for the multi-hued grey sky, face turned upward with closed eyes and open mouth - silently screaming in defiance at the storm raging above my head. Large, cold raindrops pummel down upon the asphalt; so much accumulated liquid that minuscule waves are running in sheets around my feet as the water runs down the street, and cold enough against the hot blacktop to cause wisps of mist to rise in slow swirling eddies around my ankles. Bolts of lightning crisscross over my head; great arcs of searing, silvery-white electricity jumping from cloud to cloud, occasionally finding a path through the thickly ionized air to strike at a hapless object on the ground (a tree, a house, maybe me (?)). Peals of thunder slam into my eardrums; a great cacophony alternating between a rolling sound as if I were standing in the middle of a platoon of quickly approaching and retreating bass drums, to the immediate whip crack from the sonic shock wave caused by a close strike. Through this I stand motionless as the storm rages all around me; cold and shivering in the icy rain, flinching with every crack and boom, but not giving a thought to running for cover.