Summer Thunderstorms

The rocks are hot from the inside out
From long days
of endless summer heat.
Lizards have lain there, and basked in the sun,
but their burning beds would scald my naked feet.
The air is dense and the birds begin to retreat.

As thunder rips open the atmosphere,
its edges are frayed by the wild wind,
Forcing its way through thickets of trees,
through branches and leaves,
that sway and flutter and bend.

The other creatures settle in,
but the rocks and I stand firmly in defiance.
Both unswayed, 
and now speckled with rain,
My feet can bear compliance.