The Owl’s Polite Fiction

[Intro - Piano] [Sparse, curious, flurrying] [piano plays questioning melody, vinyl crackle, updrafts] [Verse 1] [Intimate, conversational] The owl politely calls it sleep Not the other thing we don't say Rearranges feathers like a guest Who knows they've overstayed Trees invented dormancy A nicer word for gone Even snow avoids the subject Calls itself a swan [Pre-Chorus] [Building, tribal drums enter softly] We've made fifty names for leaving None of them are true [Chorus] [Belt, restrained power] But I saw the cardinal rehearsing His last territorial song (last song) Winter keeps her secrets frozen In an aquarium of almost-gone Death's just snow-tongue For the guest room cleaning Making space for uninvited spring [Interlude - Piano] [Crystalline ascending runs] [piano takes solo, flurrying passages] [Verse 2] [Lower register, more abstract] February's polite fiction— Pretending roots aren't practicing Their quiet exit, stage left While we applaud their wintering I asked the sparrow about it once She laughed, called me dramatic Said "we don't die, we just—" Then flew into static [Pre-Chorus] [Tribal drums building] Invented language for the leaving Frost-tongue, marble-sleep [Chorus] [Fuller, tribal drums prominent] But I saw the garden surrendering To something it can't name (can't name) Winter holds her lovers melting In the warmth of her own shame Death's just hush-tongue For the great composting Turning sparrow into soil and song [Bridge - Stripped experimental] [Whispered invented language, building] Snow-ghost Cloud-returning Earth-keeping Star-becoming Frost-maiden Marble-sleeping Gone-to-feeding Silence-breathing [tribal drums intensify] Why not say it plain— Death Death Death Is snowfall's real name [Final Verse - Operatic moments] [Full production, flurrying piano] The owl finally admits it In a language only owls know She's not sleeping She's becoming snow And snow's not resting It's dissolving into spring And spring's not arriving— It's death wearing wings [Outro - Fading] [Piano sparse, tribal drums fade] [humming softly, lower register] The guest room's ready The guest is already here They've been here all winter We just called them something dear [piano final chord, snow sound, silence] [End]