Before the Blackbirds Sing

Early morning, just before the blackbirds sing.

Soft, Morning rises on tips of toes,
Holding Sun up to the sky.
Earth awakens to a glorious dawn,
All before the blackbirds fly.

Wind chants a song of things yet to be;
Trees join in with whispered sighs.
Clouds group together, white mixed with gray,
Listening to the blackbirds cry. 

Rain falls heavy, a gift to the ground;
Flowers wave, welcoming spring.
All over Earth, nature is waking,
Morning, just before the blackbirds sing.