🎙️ For the Amateurs 🎙️ (A Poem on Solar Storms and Signal Loss)
They tune their dials with quiet care, And send their signals through the air. But high above, the heavens flare— And leave the bands in disrepair.
For when the Sun lets loose its might, With X-class flares that blaze so bright, The D-layer wakes in harsh alarm, And HF suffers sudden harm.
From 80 meters to ten and more, The signals vanish, mute and sore. On daylight’s side, the bands fall dead— As if the ionosphere had fled.
And in the north where cold winds roam, The polar paths are not a home. For charged particles flood the skies, And steal the sound from hams so wise.
Auroral curtains twist and dance, But give no signal a fair chance. Their glow may awe the earthly eye, But scatter voices as they fly.
CW and SSB may fail, Distorted like a ghostly wail. Yet Morse and FT8 push through— The hardy modes of just a few.
So hams take heart when signals fade, This too shall pass, though hopes be frayed. For skies that storm will calm once more, And DX calls will fill the floor.
