Thunder

Rolling thunder rumbles across the sky, like the pounding hooves of Death’s horses, as they herald the dawn. Wind whistles through the cracks of old houses, cold and dark. The screams of the wind, sound like souls crying for bodies. It’s just an autumn thunderstorm, as rain cleanses the world from Summer’s burn. It’s urged out by Autumn’s coloring leaves, as they decorate the ground. Some leaves crackle, as they hold fast their grasps of the branches of trees.
I could sleep, but the sky is cracking, ripping open, and the heavens let free their torrents of rain. Autumn knows she will pass soon too, straight into the cold embrace of Winter.

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