Winter-ish — An Image

An artfully altered photo of a puddle of raindrops collecting at the base of an old Maple's roots.
“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

Evergreen Wisdom — A Poem

An artfully altered photo of snow-limned trees.
“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

Jouissance — A Poem

An artfully altered photo of a silver teacup & saucer on an oak tabletop, catching morning light through a large bay window.
“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

Archie Leach — A Dream

An artfully altered photo, taken of a television screen while watching a movie, of Cary Grant.
“A.Leach” — C.Birde, 1/22

Who are you to me,

Mister Leach?

That you glide

from nostalgia’s

silver screen?

Stride languidly

through Dream plains

of wild Psyche?

Debonair in style,

urbane of gesture,

smooth-suited

& Brylcreemed

to characteristic

perfection;

utterly untouched

by Time’s pitiless

transit

Coy-smile flirtation

Determinedly

searching for…

questioning…

Dream within dream,

thrice calling.

Ever & always welcome,

dear Mister Leach –

please, do visit again.

Still, waking curiosity

compels:

Who are you to me?

— C.Birde, 1/22

Lullaby — An Image

A close-up photograph of birds' footprints in snow.
“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

Tongues — A Poem

An artfully altered photo of a Blue Jay peering down from its perch, a peanut in its beak.
“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

Primeval — A Dream

An artfully altered photo of a giant Sequoia, soaring skyward.
“Primeval” — C.Birde, 7/17

Trees primeval upward soar,

exceed the vast sky’s vault

Thunderous in size

Forthright

Unbent

They filter thrumming veins

of green-gold, dusted light

Press palms to rough-furred

sorrel bark while standing

ankle-deep in moss & slow-

uncurling ferns & hear –

like a breath against the skull –

soft inquiry:

“Moon or Sword?

    What will you place in

     my heartwood?

     Which will be your gift

     of me?”

— C.Birde, 1/22

Her Dreaming — An Image

An artfully altered photo of a watery surface, rippled with motion.
“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

Perspective — A Poem

An artfully altered photo of a spider's web, pearled with raindrops, against a background of wood & water.
“Web” — A.Schnitzler, 12/21

Distance reveals

the web’s complexity

of form –

those anchors of support,

the strands that spiral

in & down;

Grants the space to see

the pattern of the weave –

the warp & weft of whys,

wherefores that catch

upon proximity.

Grateful of perspective –

room to feel & breathe;

Anxiety of being held

forever fixed in place,

subtracted.

— C.Birde, 1/22

Hush… — An Image

An artfully altered photo of an old suburb; trees and hedge, lawn and road blanketed in snow.
“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