294. October 21st
Holes in the sand formed by raindrops,
Dropped to the floor by grey angry cloud.
A tree lies charred and struck down,
Hit by vicious lightening.
A gale blows, chilling my ears,
Drowning out all other noise.
Shouting loudly, constantly,
Caring not for its surroundings.
Thunder sounds and everything cowers,
Frightened of this far away war-drum.
The clouds unleash their weapons,
And rain them down on us below.