Birds

Birds are shaking leaves of a hedge
Into a cocktail of the morning sun
And relicking between twigs
They chirp their tongues
Into ballads of tragic ends

They know no time
No ageing, no death
Resting its scythe
Over the clavicle and shoulderblade
Perpetually beaming
Over the same fate

They are brushing their feathers
Of mating season coloured
Into a palette of passion
Hushing female chatter
About which one is the best

The night tucks them in
Their nests
Oblivious to human preposterous
Hunt for coins and banknotes
Cheques and lottery
Making millionaires and forgery

They know no time
No ageing, no death..
Their grandeur and poise
Simplicity and gold in their throats
Beats all human flaws