I have seen the changing of the clouds;
The billowing black vapors,
That ebb like exhausted woodsmoke,
From chimneys colossal, high
And ominous, against a shadowy sun.

And then rainfall shall come—
Those jagged herds of lashing droplets,
Descending to sod and stream,
In patterned rhythms old, yet changing,
As the clusters thin and swell,

Breeding, birthing amongst each other
Swallowing the red disk beyond.