Dredging the archives, intermittently contributing to them.
The Tragedy of Jacob
A bird exploded on the pavement
last night outside the nursery
I’ve worked for thirty odd years.
His name was Jacob, Jay to those
who knew him best, knew his hopes
and dreams, his crippling fears, knew
what made him laugh until he cried,
knew about his secret love affair
with Sharon, the sunflower
suet lady, who, come to think of it,
hasn't been around since we
started to carry exclusively peanut treat.
Simple-minded Jay must have
thought her dead. How romantic.