Skip to content
“Fawn” — C.Birde, 5/21
To lie
in soft grass,
slim green tongues
whispering
against ankles,
arms, & legs,
weaving
through hair &
white gauze gown
Body curved –
O, earthbound slip of
crescent Moon –
about the creature’s
small & delicate form
Tawny-furred &
white-star-spotted,
large soft ears
folded back against
elongated skull,
stilt legs bent
at sharp angles,
tail & flint hooves
tucked
And to know,
all in a rush –
like song & sunrise
& oak groves &
oceans –
that, in life,
this fawn was Hers
was Hers
H e r s
She is gone two years.
But O, Her fawn
endures.
— C.Birde, 2/22
“Fallow” — C.Birde, 2/22
“Soon,
soon…”
She spoke
from a space betwixt
sleep & waking.
“I will exchange
this fallow Winter gown
for one
of green-tendrilled
Spring…”
— C.Birde, 2/22
“Winter-ish, February” — C.Birde, 2/22
“I remember
when Winter met me
with a veil of frost,
a cloak of snow…”
She exhaled
a misted breath.
“Now,
He greets me
with a fall
of tears.”
— C.Birde, 2/22
“Winter Trees” — C.Birde, 2/22
Wind through
bare trees,
white-edged
with snow,
dispels illusion
of green things
quickening
growing
For a breath,
a moment only
Palms pressed
to maple’s trunk,
ears tuned to birds’
evolving song
Gazing slantwise,
past paper squares
& digital lines aglow,
beyond time
compressed,
confined…
Evergreen-wise
Heart-sight sees,
knows.
— C.Birde, 2/22
“Tea, Light” — C.Birde, 1/22
I sit
at smooth-planed oak,
mid-morning light
wandering through
bowed glass,
& listen —
to the curl of his voice
& the River’s sigh,
& the small birds’
close observations;
& listening,
I weep.
— C.Birde, 1/22
“Lullaby” — C.Birde, 1/22
“Your small cousins
have composed
a new lullaby…”
She shifted
beneath
snowy blankets.
“Let’s sing…
Together…”
— C.Birde, 1/22
“Blue Jay” — C.Birde, 1/22
Blue Jay speaks
in voice of Crow
& Red Tail Hawk…
Vivid notes of lapis,
flinty hematite,
& earthy jasper drift
in downward mix
& tuck themselves
in ear & thoughts
of self-assessment
My own song I’ve
disguised to keep
a thorny Peace…
Once circumscribed
to silence
Fated to wither in
the nest
No More.
The words of Love
fly from my tongue
plumed, bright-
feathered,
& in full voice.
— C.Birde, 1/22
“Dream” –C.Birde, 1/22
“I dream…
of deep green mosses,
ouroboros,
& bright motes
of light…”
At rest between
thresholds,
she sighed through
sleep’s keyhole.
“I dream
of
y o u.”
— C.Birde, 1/22
“Morning Snow” — C.Birde, 1/22
“Hush, now…”
She pulled the blanket
up beneath
her chin
with a whisper.
“I’m dreaming…”
— C.Birde, 1/22
“Mirror Maple” — C.Birde, 1/22
Trees,
dark-stroked
against a sky obscured
& damply blotted,
lift expectant limbs…
Bare
Exposed
Stripped
to elemental truth.
I stand beneath…
In search of self
& soul
& all that’s sacred
amongst knotted roots
& last’s year’s fallen
leaves.
— C.Birde, 1/22