Zenith of Zen

The crow perched at the crest of the tree.
Is in constant scrutiny of human monotony.  
The robin wearing an auburn breast
hops along more casually.
The starling tucked in the leafy branch squawked.
Of his pipedream of being a hawk.  
Life seems to just effortlessly transpire.
As if nothing is right and nothing is wrong.
Agonized thoughts seem a little less diar.
While nature's bursting with jubilant song.  
When it hurts to be human,
Seek the natural world,
The zenith of zen.