When Grey Shapes Slip the Shadows

When grey shapes slip the shadows of the morning
My small birds sit in silence in the eaves
But daylight brings indifferent behaviour
A mocking sang-froid
Ripples through the leaves

Or danger even drives to desperation
The flimsy flock
That sees off plundering crows
Though when the evening light renews the shadows
A fearful stillness
Spreads along their rows

. . . . . .

Their end is woven into their existence
Their deaths a fitness that their fate contrives
But here a helpless watcher from the window
Can scarce accept the lessons of their lives