The Storm

A subtle twitch from the leaves
Up ahead on a tree just waiting
Its arms raised and listening
For its guest to arrive

The wet roads lay bare glistening
Beneath the city lights
And the petrol tanks, they drive home, presumably
Or at least that's where my feet hurry

The wind groans over the street limit
Reaching my face and into my ears
Even pushing through my layers
And I shiver

My heart thunders and pupils waken
Breaths, short, warm against the chilled howl
My sight blurs and the red lights seem to fade
As I go from stillness to the rain