In the dawn’s gentle embrace, they rise,
A chorus of freedom, under endless skies.
Their wings, a melody, brushing the air,
A dance of grace, beyond compare.

Beneath the sun’s golden light, they soar,
Every feather a story, from times of yore.
They speak of journeys, of lands afar,
Guided by the night, and the northern star.

In the forest’s whisper, their secrets lie,
Among the trees, where shadows fly.
Their songs, a tapestry, woven with care,
Of love and life, in the open air.

As dusk descends, and day bids adieu,
Their flight continues, under the moon’s blue.
A symphony of wings, in the twilight’s glow,
The eternal dance, of birds we know.