11-04-2008 In which Jughead remembers to wear his condiment

Cast in the garden of a thousand wings
the mustard seed spreads wide. Fowl of the air
lodge in the weed wild branches. A finch sings
bliss-snickery songs about the down she wears

upon her dark Autumnal breast. Winter nears.
Within the shadow of the boughs, none wove
a nest that did not brood a corpse.  They hear
her chatter, but recall no grief.  A grove

of cypress stirs. A spray of yellow falls.
Needles collapsed beside the dung and husks
of empty seeds shudder. A sudden squall
of feathers try to catch the trailing dusk.

Life and death fashion a final crack
of twilight, shake hands and consent to black.