In the soft light of dawn they flutter,
Robins in the morning hue,
Singing songs of new beginnings,
As the sky turns from black to blue.

With each delicate chirp they whisper,
Tales of joy and sorrow past,
In the quiet morning stillness,
Their voices form a vibrant cast.

Perched on branches high and low,
They herald the coming day,
Their melodies a sweet reminder,
Of the beauty in nature’s play.

As the sun ascends the heavens,
Their songs fade into the air,
Leaving echoes in the silence,
Of a morning pure and fair.