Autumn’s twilight
blooms,
this froth of asters,
bee-filled & spilling –
unbridled –
about the garden’s
unkempt edges
Lace-edged foam
of white,
lilac,
lavender
borne & tended
in courtly fashion
along an ebbing
surf of green…
— C.Birde, 10/21
“Do you hear me?”
Her voice ascended –
russet,
orange,
gold.
“I sing to you through
the trembling throats
of Autumn
wildflowers…”
— C.Birde, 10/21
Forgive the intrusion;
this chance encounter,
such great, good fortune…
Dark eyes stare, fixedly, unblinking.
Legends say your Ancestor
fought the Sun, demanded
decreased heat & light, & won…
Long ears twitch & hinge & pivot.
That four spots on your cinnamon fur –
on each hind leg, behind each ear –
mark that ancient victory…
Rear leg stretches, scuffs base of ear.
Myth says, too, you are companion
to the Moon, your likeness pressed
upon her, silver-gray…
Whiskers flick, nostrils flare.
Well suited, as you may need,
to contraction or release,
is your sleek musculature & economy of form…
Wide yawn precedes a full-length sprawl
beneath the bronze-green hedge.
Mischief contradiction of creativity,
you hide in plain sight, unseen,
a duality of self, at ease…
Folds front paws, rests chin;
eyes close.
The dish in hand slopes water;
place it, eddying, on shorn grass.
The moment of connection,
of trust & recognition
slips past.
Bid farewell.
Depart –
Rabbit-blessed,
content, &
light-of-heart.
— C.Birde, 10/21
“Sometimes…”
her voice slipped,
in wink & rustle,
through narrow leaves,
“I sneak up
on unsuspecting blooms,
& catch them
in the act of
photosynthesis…”
— C.Birde, 10/21
Sea
calmly addressing
rocky shore,
wavelets undulating
Moon
lifting, watery & fully
formed,
the surrounding dark,
obliterating
And I,
breath and pulse
re-synchronizing,
one witness amid those
witnessing
And I,
my pockets brimming
with silvered,
shining,
chiming slips of light
to carry home.
— C.Birde, 9/21
Air,
thick ribbed
with insect song;
Sky,
stretched taut
with cloud,
thinned blue;
Tremor,
soft wrenching,
v i s c e r a l.
I think of you.
Small birds
sway clinging
to seed heads,
blown…
Always,
I think of
you.
— C.Birde, 9/21
“I have written
your name
in a hundred million
places…
Blade of grass…
Curl of breeze…
The underneath
of a white oak’s leaves…”
Her wink scattered
beams of light.
“Are you
l o o k i n g?”
— C.Birde, 9/21
A thousand suns
lift their heads
& turn as one
Unseeing
Unblinking
Bee-scented
rays a-tremble
Attuned to
unfathomable
source &
soundless
song.
— C.Birde, 9/21
“You speak
in terms of months,
seasons,
years…”
She smiled greenly,
shook
her leaf-crowned
head.
“Oh, but, darling,
you are rooted
in the
eternal.”
— C.Birde, 9/21
This morning,
at breakfast,
clad in green smoke,
Humming-girl paid
a visit and darted
between the fizz and
drizzle of gray rain,
unspattered.
Mid-air, she paused –
suggestion of form
and wings; an aura,
a blur –
to observe us encased
in our glass-walled
box.
We think ourselves
sovereign. Free.
Absurd.
In a breath and a wink,
she was
gone.
— C.Birde, 9/21