Robin's song

the beacon of the morning light
stood calling me to day.
waking, standing, and the like,
rising to obey.

but softly, and above the din
of breakfast, clothes, and quiet,
fluttered in the joyful spin
of Robin's hopeful chorus.

peering out, I saw him there,
perched on branch above.
twirling out his gracious song,
of joy and hope and love.

the morning light, now shining bright,
filled my room with yellow.
but far better than the golden beam
was to hear the Robin's bellow.