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!