I heard the robins wake the dawn with praise
As beak to beak the mothers feed their young
In joy they sing to greet the rising sun
Erasing memories of cold yesterdays
Bright colors paint the shadows and the grays
A warm response to the joyous song
Taking pleasure in the growing dawn
And thus the mornings pass into the days
Such gratitude is something I must learn
For gifts I’m given but have never earned
To care for others whose lives are more stern
For easing of their burdens I must strive
All children, like the robins, need to thrive
They, too, must feel good to be alive.