On Looking Out Of The Window

On Looking Out Of The Window

How I relish the leisurely walks taken
Around my granny's Grasmere village
On the misty mornings of the summer
Since they bring a smile to my lips
 And also fill me with  serious  thoughts.
I don't know why such thoughts come ,
Perhaps it's that solemn old cathedral
And the  grave of  poet Wordsworth  there,
Along with the memories of his poems
That lead me to muse about the Time's fell hand.
But when I return home in pensive mood
And wistfully look out of the  window
On these mysterious grey  mornings,
I suddenly find it to be an enchanting view..
The  inky black trees clothed in misty dew,
And suddenly two doves newly woke up
Perch on the window and look at me,
As if to beckon me to venture outside
And shake away that depressing gloom
By inhaling the fragrance of flowers in bloom.

-Portia Burton