Getting it wrong

The weather forecaster to day told a complete Porky when I looked on line early today. The forecast said that it would stop raining in an hour and gradually turn brighter during the course of the day. 

It was raining when I got up and looked out of the window into our tiny garden, it was raining when we left to go swimming an hour or so later after Steve had spun his legs for 45 minutes on the turbo instead of going out on the road on his bike. There were huge puddles that stretched from one side of the road to the other. We went to the pool wearing running kit, had a decent enough swim, intending, to go for a short run afterwards having left the bikes at home. Still raining through all my jobs this morning, taking the winter duvet to be cleaned ready to put away for the (Ha ha) summer, off to the craft centre for this and that and then bought some pots of herbs and a couple of strawberry plants at the big garden centre. Well, it didn’t stop until later this afternoon. 

That was not the only thing that did not work out today. I had noticed in my Mslexia Magazine that there was a competition for a poem written by an adult for children of seven to eleven years old. I set about writing a nice little poem this afternoon. Trimmed it up and looked for the website to send it to. AHHHHH! I had missed the closing date of March 31st. Still it won’t be wasted since I know a number of littlies and for a start I sent it to my friend Helen across the road for her to read to her granddaughter Amelia though she is possibly a little young but will still be happy to be read to. It’s a variation on one from the other day, or ‘Here’s one I did earlier’ as they say on the cookery programmes. So you can test it on your own young ones. The thing that marks this one out is just that it is number 600 in my poetry writing old age.  

The Cheeky Crow 

You really are a naughty bird

The maddest bird I’ve ever heard

A cheeky boy, yes that’s the word

The noise you make is quite absurd

Caw! Caw! Caw!

How smart you are I have to say

Shiny black feathers you display

Every day you come in to play

Sometimes I wish you’d go away

Caw! Caw! Caw!

I heard that you are called a Crow

I’d like to learn the things you know

Even when the cold winds blow

You still come in to say hello

Caw! Caw! Caw!

You take the others birdies food

Fighting because of your bad mood

Take some food to your young brood

To the wife that you have wooed

Caw! Caw! Caw!

You are not a pretty bird you see

Who flies in daily from that big tree

To pick up anything that’s free

And come to keep me company

Caw! Caw! Caw!

The sun shines on feathers black

Your heart black too when you attack

You may indeed good manners lack

But I will smile when you come back

Caw! Caw! Caw!