In a low area between hills
There lies a valley with a river flushing through it.
The drapes of hanging algae on dehydrated cliffs
Seem wonderfully vapid; unmoved by scorching spewing rays,
Helplessly hopelessly sizzling.
High up, a scarlet sky eagerly hangs
Amidst a fracas between clouds.

A bottle brush oscillates.

The day ceases early and the twilight’s tardy.
Deranged moans are groaned by the heavy ashen grisly cloud
As he finally suffocates the last of the sunny rays;
There, where earth meets the sky, the ottoman begins a war.  
He growls and snarls and then he roars.

A skylark trills.

She sways in the wind
Chirring harshly
An alarming melodious jumble,
Eager to escape.

Like the fish shoaling deeper into the ocean.

The drone of lightning shakes the shore.
Like a foot that stamps the floor, as if it is his final say.
Drizzling drops of ocean rain then caress the rocky cheeks.

The rainfall season has begun.