Can you hear it?

Those distant metallic gongs.
Curiosity to seek out the source, brings me to a rain washed picture.
Broccoli trees swaying ever so lightly,
That lone bird.
Moody clouds hovering, reluctant to pass by.
A ton of images, a ton of questions.
A woman quickens her pace, seeks our shelter from the rain.
From the rain? Imagine if it was raining bullets.
Imagine watching people gunned to the ground.
Just like that.
Imagine watching people run for their life,
Run Forrest, run.
Despair, Anger, Fear, Intense Fear, Panic.
Watching gunmen sprint across to you,
Imagine being spotted.
Oh I dare not imagine that.
I think it boils down being thankful we're alive.
Sigh..
Happy Thanksgiving.