From the pink
dogwood,
dropping notes –
bright petals,
raindrops,
shadows
onto clear water –
that fall in explicit,
random pattern;
reclaiming
Summerland
through song –
recognizable,
indefinable.
My heart unbolts…
At last,
at last…
I’ve awaited
your
return.
— C.Birde, 5/21
“When
the slow greening
calls,”
— arms extended,
she spread
her budding,
blooming
veil –
“what choice
have you
but to
answer?”
— C.Birde, 5/21
Lilac perfume
& swoon
of chartreuse,
pollen-ed
air…
A-swim
& stippled in
Spring’s ritual
laving…
Every pore
aware.
— C.Birde, 5/21
“I am,”
she said
with sly smile
& wink,
“quite literally
living in the
(yellow-white-violet)
pink…”
— C.Birde, 4/2
New growth
on old wood –
tender green,
delicate
and
frilled –
Living proof
that youth
belongs not
solely
to the young,
but
to all those
who begin
anew.
— C.Birde, 4/21
“Yes,
I know…”
Even as she spoke,
her infinite heart
entrusted its pulse
to all things.
“O, yes,
I’ve missed you,
too.”
— C.Birde, 4/21
“Sing with me”,
she trilled,
“our tongues curling
‘round each fleet,
green note;
‘round the tender sound
of each new leaf
unfurling…”
— C.Birde, 4/21
Spring —
season
of promise and
uncertainty;
that green-frilled,
pink-budding gift,
waiting
to be
o
p
e
n
e
d.
— C.Birde, 4/21
“In yellow,
I rejoice,”
she swept her arms
wide as her
grin,
“You will see me
a’thrill
in each daffodil &
forsythia,
each dandelion &
goldfinch
returning.”
— C.Birde, 4/21
Wash
the trees’
tight buds
in pink blush
of twilight
& whisper
in sweet hyacinth
breath.
Tidal spring,
engulf us all.
Sweep
up our hearts
in a swoon
of petals’
drift.
— C.Birde, 4/21