In a sunny yard where cluckers roam, Live happy chickens, their feathered home. With beaks that peck and wings that flap, They strut around, in a feathery cap. The rooster crows at the break of dawn, His voice a trumpet, a waking song. With feathers bright, in colors so bold, He guards his flock, a sight to behold. "Come on, dear hens! Let’s scratch the ground, For tasty treats, let’s gather ‘round!" The hens all hurry, with a flurry of feet, Searching for crumbs, a breakfast treat. One hen named Clara, so curious and spry, Loves to chase butterflies that flutter by. With a flutter of wings, she hops and she skips, While others just watch, shaking their hips. There’s Henrietta, plump and round, She loves to dig in the dirt, all around. With a flick of her foot, she uncovers a worm, “Oh, what a prize!” she clucks with charm. The sun climbs high, it warms the air, The chickens bask without a care. They lounge in the shade of a big old tree, Chirping and chatting, so merry and free. Little chicks, with feathers so light, Waddle and tumble, a comical sight. They follow their mothers, so small and meek, Learning the ways of the chicken’s technique. As the day winds down, the sky turns gold, The chickens gather, both young and old. They settle down close, in their cozy coop, Sharing their stories in a clucking group. “Remember the time we all found a treat?” Said Clara, her eyes bright, oh what a feat! Henrietta chuckled, “That was quite the chase, When we ran from the dog, and we all lost our place!” As stars start to twinkle in the deepening blue, The chickens snuggle, a warm fuzzy crew. With dreams of the day and adventures anew, They drift off to sleep, in the night’s gentle hue. So if you ever hear a soft cluck in the night, Remember the chickens, their hearts so light. In the world of the farm, they sing their sweet song, A life filled with laughter, where everyone belongs.