The bird awakes as the dew is still fresh
Clinging to the little hairs that sense danger
Shaken at once to ensure all is still alright
Wouldn’t that be something
To set oneself into flight upon a new day
And find out too late about failures
All along the country side
The other little birds also wake
Repeating the same ritual from evenings slumber
Through the valleys it is heard
Such music that only nature can create
Like splashes deep within the forest
The birds morning is always in chorus
Perhaps the other wild animals
Rely upon the bird for mornings glory
Perhaps they also revel in the song