Cardinal

 Cardinals are birds, attested by exertions in the middle of a sentence. Their red (male) feathers give rise to their special name because they clutch the spectrum at the same place as those Pope-appointed church fathers who wear raiments of red. The birds were first, red like the beaten afternoon sun. Female cardinals own a rusty orange colour, perhaps to hide better in their nesting covert. The colours of cardinal requires the time each colour takes. We have a love story, then, amidst the trees and breathing world. From the bifurcating colours of the sexes you can impute as you will. Cardinals sing together well, exhibiting excellent triangulation. Judging by the range of calls, they maintain a lively colloquy. Their crest could win praise just for its distinction. Like unto blue jays, titmice, and not much else on this continent, cardinals have top notches. Only the tanager matches cardinals in downright redness, but cardinals have crests, the winning thing. Their beaks crush seeds in the trundle of time. Outside time occurs words, peeps, and other fitting machinery. Any singing matches nothing but a point too quick to map. The flash of red or rusty brown says something piecemeal in the attainable world. You are a clock, Reader, you are a clock.