In the early morn, the sky awakes,
Feathered symphonies that nature makes.
Soft chirps and flutters, a melody pure,
A serenade that hearts can cure.

Across the fields and through the trees,
They dance with grace upon the breeze.
Wings of color, a vibrant sight,
In their flight, day turns to light.

Nestled high or on the ground,
Their songs a treasure to be found.
From dawn to dusk, their voices ring,
A gentle promise of the spring.

When twilight falls and stars appear,
Their whispers still are sweet and clear.
In dreams they soar, a boundless flight,
Birds of the day, stars of the night.