Small
in a vast world,
& aware of her diminutive size
No bravado here
Alert & wary
Yet ready to trust
when approached with
patience & kindness.
We’ve all been her.
— C.Birde, 5/24
Small… — A Poem
Wolfshead — An Image
Wolf’s head
hung above the door
in welcome or warning?
I could not know before
putting hand to latch
& slowly moving forward.
— C.Birde, 5/25
October Moon — A Poem
That night,
the Moon’s pale & brilliant eye
shone wide across the water
And you three & you & I walked
through the end of an October
warmer than memory allowed
While the fallen, whispering leaves
of oak & sycamore followed us
on brisk & skittering feet.
— C.Birde, 11/23
Falls — A Poem
Falls,
fallen,
falling down
d
o
w
n
into the depths
of self.
— C.Birde, 4/23
Caged — A Dream
Uninvited,
unexpected, they arrive…
Four men – stocky & absurd,
frowning in black overcoats
& bowler hats.
Crowding into the bathroom.
Bearing, between them,
a large birdcage –
ornate wire, curled & domed.
On one perch,
a red-gold parrot;
on its twin,
a second parrot’s skeleton;
& on the cage’s floor,
a lovebird contained,
restrained,
in a cube of wire mesh.
“We done did the best we could.”
Muttering,
shuffling, the men depart as,
tumbling from its perch,
the parrot falls,
flashing red-over-gold…
The lovebird remains…
Love,
trapped —
caged within
a cage.
— C.Birde, 12/22
Glove — A Dream
I wore,
on my right hand,
a glove of cicadas –
glittering,
shimmering,
whirring in patterns
improbable…
A glove of dialogue,
& movement,
& transformation
undeniable…
And when I tried
to release my hand,
my fingers,
of those shrill insects,
they clicked
& chittered
& shifted
& sang;
with buzzing intent,
they bit
& stung;
endured as one;
would not be
shaken off or free,
denied or dislodged,
but rather would
r e m a i n.
— C.Birde, 8/22
Traffic — A Dream
No matter
that I have no map,
no navigation system…
that the warp & weft
of intersecting highways
remains incomprehensible,
& the frantic push & pull
of traffic sweeps me along
with tidal force…
that strobes of light –
red & white & cautionary
yellow –
stream past in a confusion
of glancing blurs
reflecting off windshields,
steel-gray paneled bodies,
side- & rearview mirrors
dim with rain & half-light…
No matter.
I have foreseen
my arrival,
all the same.
Woodlawn,
I am coming.
— C.Birde, 8/22
Muse — An Image
With sidelong glance
& gesture,
she remarked:
“I
am my own
M u s e.”
— C.Birde, 7/22
Excavation — A Dream
We ascend the gradual slope
of polished stone set between
transparent knee walls
(fingers trailing
brushed aluminum rails)
& leave behind
the noise & commotion
of lights & shops & cafés,
the bustle of others’ motion
& intent.
Here,
we pause to peer beyond
the glass-walled enclosure
of dark earth,
excavated oh so long ago;
to peer at the ancient stone-
boned cathedral held within.
Ghostly spires rise through
dusted half-light;
buttresses span a space of time
unmeasured;
battered curtain walls defend
the sacred, hollow space within.
Alone.
Solitary.
No witnesses, but we –
he
&
me.
— C.Birde, 7/22
Loyalty — An Image
Wreathed
in pale,
lemon-scented Datura,
softly,
she spoke:
“May all your loyalties be
true,
worthy,
&
returned.”
— C.Birde, 7/22