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.