Red Morning

Red, red morning indicating rain -
time on my hands is unproductive. All
this sanguin sunrise like a whiplash cuts
right across initial drowsy sense
of slow contentment. There will be no chance
to reach the fells; red morning ends in mist
descending on the crags and from the sea
there will be chilly warnings as the view
gets drowned completely, ghosts of clouds
that drift on lower with the dawn's demise -
dead swordsmen risen from the rocky shore
to blot all daylight from the mountain skies.