In fields of gold where sunlight plays,
A gentle cluck begins the day,
Feathers ruffle, a dance in light,
Chickens stir at morningâs sight.
Beneath the shade of ancient trees,
They peck the earth with gentle ease,
Rustling whispers in the breeze,
A harmony of simple peace.
Their eyes reflect the skyâs embrace,
In quiet fields, they find their place,
A life of rhythm, soft and slow,
In every cluck, a tale does grow.
As dusk descends, the world grows still,
With wings tucked close, they roost at will,
Dreams of seeds and sunny days,
In the coop where calmness stays.