Marching Soldiers

A new day and we go in search of dear food
chain of followers in queue till we get shooed
crane at our fellows going the opposite way
we always are a  loyal army having our say.

Descending in large numbers at any given place
there is no stampede as we  increase our pace
there is no one knowing from where we came
wonder as it may seem, we all look the same.

We change our course and tracks to get to food
though near it may seem, it sure has to be good
though no one bothers as we take it to our  stay
we try to be sober lest demons obstruct our way.

Although wary of a quick wind or a  stream of water
pranks of  a kid wiping us out as we climb a platter
flanks of marching soldiers leaving behind our dead
there are obstacles in life which we seldom dread.

Every time you see us silently marching along,
like a winding train or a long forgotten folk song
alike as we look, one and all, doing our own tasks