Storm Signals

Red blur against the western sky A banner flutters threateningly The sport of every treacherous air It flaunts its warning note - “Beware” Each wrinkle in its protean form A portent of impending storm. The darkening smudge where sank the sun In bloody embers smoulders on With brooding wrath. But angrier red Invests that standard with the dread Of unseen terrors. For it holds Death’s shadow in its writhing folds!