In the morning light they rise, a gentle song,
Feathers rustling, a whisper of dawn’s grace,
In fields of gold they wander, dreams prolong,
A dance of life, in this tranquil, sacred space.

Beneath the sky of endless blue they roam,
With gentle clucks and a curious, watchful gaze,
Each step a story, each peck a poem,
In the simple joys of their carefree days.

The warmth of sun upon their feathered wings,
A gentle chorus, nature’s sweet refrain,
In hearts and minds, their spirit sings,
A timeless rhythm, in sun and rain.

When evening falls, they find their restful nest,
Beneath the stars, in peaceful, quiet dreams,
The gentle flap of feathers comes to rest,
In the world of chickens, all is as it seems.