Stormy Day

This is a little short-story I wrote on FaceBook as a response to a discussion post, revised.
Hope you enjoy!

I step onto my back porch, paint peeling, and the surge of energy one receives when a storm is on it's way fills me to the brim with excitement. My feet sink into the thick green grass, still moist from the sprinkler we had been running earlier. A gentle breeze raises the hairs on the back of my neck, and sends a delicate shiver racing down my back. I breath in the tang of the air, and feel as though anything could happen. I always feel this way when a storm is on the rise. Off in the distance, I hear thunder. It shakes my very core. the pure essence of the rain and darkness is not yet upon me, and yet it is still as filling as a full moon. Small droplets of water descend on me, and the fungi in the ground react, creating the inescapably joyful smell that accompanies wet; like water on hot cement, it creates for you a separate world where the impossible is made possible, the unlikely probable, and the hopeless hopeful. It is not the biggest or the brightest star, but the storm, the rain, the lightning, it's brother, thunder, and the gusting wind that make dreams come true.Storms, not stars, are what liven the soul.