Never forget
to take the time
to read those notes
tucked amongst the trees,
carried along the air’s current,
laid
— gently, sweetly —
at your feet.
— C.Birde, 12/17
Messages — An Image
Arrivals — A Poem
The
long stride
of Winter
finds us huddled
together —
bones shrunk within
too-thin flesh —
unimpressed
by prompt
and timely
arrivals.
— C.Birde, 12/17
Moonwise — An Image
Like dreams
and mad schemes,
the Moon remains
out of reach —
gliding, grinning,
swollen with
knowing.
— C.Birde, 12/17
Residue — A Poem
I gave my cares
to the earth,
to the tumbled soil;
my fears
to the wind’s knife edge;
and my tears
to the rivers and
spreading sea.
A thudding grief
expelled
in howl and echo.
I came undone.
Nothing remained
but time and space,
and the residue
of flint-hard hope
to begin
again.
— C.Birde, 12/17
Enter — An Image
Part the
drape of light and shadow.
Step along
the leaf-fallen carpet.
Enter.
Realign.
Follow.
— C.Birde, 11/17
Flight — A Poem
The trees’
weight of blackbirds
has diminished today;
the sky, less darkly rivered with
motion.
— C.Birde, 11/17
Thoughts & Wild Rabbits — A Poem
The warmth and safety
of this moment,
this place,
are no defense,
nor the play of light splashed
against closed eyelids.
The unwelcome thoughts
leap —
small, wild rabbits
through the wire fence
of consciousness.
They should not fit,
become lodged half-way,
caught between life
and non-life.
Cut them free.
Gently,
gently
lift and release each one.
Swaddle it,
heart-to-heart.
Match that rapid pulse
and stroke
the dampened fur to warmth.
Speak tenderly into the
long, listening ears
of love and
love and
love.
— C.Birde, 11/17
Sassafrass Tea — An Image
I’ll brew a tea
of young sassafras
roots,
and we’ll sit together
at their elders’
knees,
warm our hands
on our brimming
cups, and sip
sweet
Autumn.
— C.Birde, 11/17
Guardian — A Poem
Head full of ciphers,
fist full of stars,
she hears
the unsaid,
speaks
with a cynic’s
tongue.
Elbows sharp’d
against all storms;
her shoulder’s chip
maintains its buff
and shine.
Burr of flesh,
angled thought, or
heart’s constriction –
real,
perceived;
We understand
each other.
Her shadow
ascends,
extends –
I stand
in the
light.
— C.Birde
Truth — An Image
Truth
is a
tree in the wood —
roots and boughs lead to one
trunk.
— C.Birde, 11/17