Early Birds

Summer, winter, fall, spring,
Whatever the weather
You always hear them sing.

Swirl in your sheets,
As their songs fill the air,
With different greets.

Not to worry when you wake,
Their chirps have ceased.
They won't give you a headache.

But during the day,
Where do they go?
Surely far away.

Do they cluster in a wood
To fly back before morning,
Again, to sing as they should?

They’ll chirp after a raining,
Is their sweet song a hoax?
Are they just complaining?