Little bluebird
gentle jay,
slight of feather
most brittle bones.

Morning raven,
feathered black,
cut to rails
claw scrape on glass.

Rest near each wing to wing.

Two companions
hearts so dear,
strong
but giving way to
winter.

Jaybird fly to
the woodcock's side
find shelter
from its
shiver.

Grow old, content,
till dust again
mother moon gives way to
light.

Live your days
my gentle jay
and let the raven return
to
night.