The Morning Bird calls to sings a song. A sound ever so sweet and delightfully in tune the tweet tweet of miss melody serenaded the charming bears close by. The morning dew still sparkling on the light shade of the green grass, one perfectly shaped cloud hangs lowly but that is all. The Morning Bird jerks his neck with speed and conviction when he remembers his fathers parting advice.
It is in this moment the mighty bird springs into flight, darting fiercely to the ground below. He spreads two stunning wings leveling him out as he weaves effortlessly through the trees. Singing the whole journey, an unmistakable score that carries a blessing across the ecosystem. The bird draws towards an open exposure, deep in the heart of the woods. As the bird lands lightly he dusts off his wings, proceeding to hop gently down to the sodden mud cascaded with branches. After very little to no time at all, the bird had six or seven wiggling worms in his belly, not including the one he was slurping like spaghetti. A sharp northeasterly wind bellows through his feathers. Clasped between his beak he enjoys one for the road, after a quick take off the bird rises above the tips of the trees, sifting softly through the air. The Morning Birds routine is complete.