Description of a Thunderstorm

It was one hundred and two degrees today in Baltimore. The humidity hung in the air and was repressive in the way in which it pushed down on the earth. But tonight, when the heat finally swelled, and like interest, compounded upon itself high up above in the stratosphere, the sky, voluminous, convulsed, balking and faltering under the weight of numb, heavy heat. Low rumbling disbursed from the clouds, and trees rustled restlessly. Then! With the suddenness and alacrity of a light switch being flicked ON, sheets of rain slapped the ground mercilessly, with a decided aggressiveness and purpose. True to form of most summer thunderstorms, the rain tapered off within several minutes. As if the Weather had at last removed with its tongue a particularly stubborn corn kernel lodged frustratingly between two hard-to-reach teeth in the back of its mouth, and taken a deep sigh of relief, the heat’s firm grip on the day had been dislodged and the temperature was lowered thirty degrees, with a soft mist left floating softly in the air.