Out My Window

Looking out my window.
I see the treetops high and the clouds passing by.
The sun shines in my face and the wind becomes a race.
The leaves begin to rustle
And gently one will fall, rolling through the air like a ball
Yet pacing itself, so as not to harm its delicate edges.
A bird flies past, a flock following.
All kinds of shapes, sizes,
A rainbow of colours.
Then along comes a grey cloud, looing menacing yet proud.
As drops of rain begin to fall,
I notice that all arroun everything is dull.