Analysis of Aubade

Birdsong hit the morning air
As sunrise kissed the sky.
Lingering stars reduced their glare
And softly said goodbye.

Wispy clouds turned red and gold,
While trees stretched out and yawned.
Rabbits scampered by the fold;
Another day had dawned.

Another day in which to toil,
Or dream, or make ends meet.
The farmer on his own good soil;
The beggar in the street.

Copyright © Robert Haigh 2015