Thunder in the Valley

Thought I'd switch it up again and write a little differently; so here it is: a sonnet, about nature!

Here, there are only droplets of thunder
lifting like flats of staffs in scorching sun.
Hairline fractures trace up as craters blur
Graphite teeth gnaw into rivers that run
to the South, to the North, to the west; East.
Liquid survival gorges on all flesh
while here, rain falls, navy cowering beast.
Limestone ladders reach; to clouds, tightly press.
The sawdust valley coughs out in distaste 
but horizons gleam pink-gray; the day's rest.
Triangle tail splits towards the cliff face
as mountains of dragons float to the crest.
Fantastical plunder to depths unknown.
Here lies the mist, secret portrait is sewn.