Rain 2009

Grey and white woolen clouds float across each other like lazy jellyfish.  The cumulus mixes with the stratis like an orgy of silent rain filled sentinals.  They are waiting, for the moment to be right,  the electricity just so, to let fall their precious silver drops upon us.  The barometor's lowering level bore down on us, like a sieve. My fingers curl impatiently around my steering wheel, as the wind attempts to whip my car into the lanes of traffic surrounding me.  The kick back fog from the cars around and ahead of me is blinding. My windshield defroster is blasting full bore, but to no avail.  I dampen my headlights back to parking lights and squint, soldiering on through the stinging downpour.  I am hitting pockets of standing rain, hydroplaning slightly.  The disorientation of momentary flight over water is startling. The thought occurs that this is the way a bird might feel when they take flight successfully for the first time.  I grit my teeth and ease off the gas when I feel the tires seperate from the road, the tale tell whoosh sliding suddenly to a deaf glide.  That would be the sound of impending skid, were I foolish enough to slam on my brakes.