Simpering effortlessly through the air like sperm,
	Before splintering into icy shards in turn,
Assaulting the ears, painlessly striking
	Subdued chords on the taut sensitive string
Of nerves. Like some insane random symphony,
	This dawn chorus weaves an empathy
Drawing the sleepy witness, helpless but willing,
	Into the collective spirit, willful and helping,
Stretching the inane smile of passivity
	Over world-weary bones with a humility
Born of ignorance.
			Tell me what thoughts
	Can pass through a small bird's mind as it courts
Nature so brazenly? Is there some twist of plot
	Overlooked in our hasty rush through life's "Hamlet"?
Or, more likely, our tragedy runs parallel, within.
	Competition is cut-throat: the odd inevitable sin,
A man-made concept after all, can be forgotten
	If we can win the race we're maybe not even in.