As the first light peeks over the hill,
The barnyard wakes to a gentle thrill.
Roosters crow, a herald of day,
While hens cluck softly in their cozy hay.
Feathers ruffle in the morning breeze,
Chickens pecking, moving with ease.
Little chicks follow in a line,
A dance of life, pure and divine.
Golden sunlight warms their wings,
The barnyard hums, alive with springs.
Scratching earth, they find their feast,
Morning chorus, never ceased.
As day unfolds, their song remains,
A simple life with humble gains.
In their clucks, a melody true,
The gentle rhythm of a barnyard crew.