Simple Like a Bird

The bird chirped on a twig, Nice little home bird, That we find around us in numbers large, Neat little bird, That goes about its business wide and far, Its puny body, thin legs and soft wings, Have a simple running brain, Catching the worm, Dousing thirst, And nesting at best, When reproducing, It probably does it to perpetuate, Perhaps it also enjoys the act, Or treats it like hunger, Once multiplied it tends for younger, Catching a worm or two or more, Some of us have perhaps seen them giving flight lessons as well, And when and how it dies an uncelebrated death, Nobody knows, Perhaps the young ones she tended, Also do not mourn her or perhaps they do, I am not so sure, She now stopped chirping and took off, As she soared high in the peak of its life, On an intended flight, Oaring air troughs far and wide, I saw it against the backdrop of blue sky, Though I could not fly, But perhaps I could be as simple as her.