The morning sun whispers secrets to the dawn,
As golden rays paint the world anew.
Gentle breezes carry songs of yesteryears,
And the sky, a canvas, shifts its hue.

Noon arrives with a fervent, blazing heart,
Its touch both fierce and tender, warm yet wild.
Clouds gather, a congregation of dreams,
Their shadows playing games, so free, so mild.

The afternoon dance, a ballet of rain,
Each droplet tells a tale of distant seas.
Thunder roars, a symphony of might,
As lightning sketches stories with its ease.

Twilight descends, a tranquil, silent grace,
Stars emerge, like whispers in the night.
The moon, a guardian of the sleeping earth,
Watches over dreams until the morning light.