Running To The Birds

Birds sing songs of joy and pain,
they cry in flocks or fly in same feathers with no selfish gain.
They fight in the morning and chant together,
in the evening when they smile with no fear.
Build their nests, feed their young ones in them, and migrate places in search of a new home.
They forget yesterday and have no idea of tommorow,
and today without food to feed on they'd borrow.
They share the warmth of nature,
and live oblivious of the future, yet they die a happy creature.
They fly and laugh at us from the sky,
or they wonder if we ever die.