The Foreshadowing (Poetry)

Vague — and yet it troubled
a small doubt that flickered dim
in imagination’s cavern
nothing more than a strange whim

Insubstantial but insistent
this presentiment of doom
that clung about unshaken
edged the morning with its gloom

Like a shudder kept in waiting
the foreboding grew and grew
till its cloud hung curtain-heavy
and no reason filtered through

Dire warning in suspension
raising hair along the spine
the foreknowledge something’s coming
but of what there’s no clear sign