Waking up to the morning’s pattering rain, <br />Tapping relentlessly on the windowpane. <br />I struggled hard to try and ascertain, <br />By looking outside towards the weathervane, <br />What hope there was that the showers would refrain, <br />Across a misty and dripping wet terrain. <br /> <br />By afternoon the sun had raised a smile, <br />The distant hills were clear, mile upon mile, <br />And now the scene had started to beguile. <br />A robin sang his song, perched on a stile, <br />Then flew off beyond the drenched woodpile, <br />Into a balmy landscape, so fertile. <br /> <br />Evening called, the sunset spread its hues, <br />Slowly silhouetting familiar views. <br />The sky then faded into deepest blues. <br />Kicking off my restricting high heeled shoes, <br />Aware of how quickly a tender blister ensues, <br />I relaxed, listening to the owls tu -whit -tu -whoos.<br /><br />Ernestine Northover<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/morning-afternoon-and-evening/
