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