She stands in snow,
toes encouraging
new green
growth.
Dash or linger —
she is undecided,
and casts
a glance
over her shoulder.
The lion’s roar is
caught
in her hair.
In one hand she holds
a small suitcase;
in the other,
a bouquet of feral
blooms.
We hold our breath —
She bends to open,
at last, the case;
and releases
Vernal
light.
— C.Birde, 3/17
Mother Nature’s
blanket reminder
that even we
must rest —
Snow.
— C.Birde, 3/17
March –
Mars,
Martius –
Caught betwixt
winter and spring,
hurling crocuses one day,
storm-born snow the next.
A month at odds
with itself,
conquest and
new growth
folded into
its very
name.
— C.Birde, 3/17
She pulls
the blankets up,
tucks us in,
and encourages us —
just a little longer —
to rest.
— C.Birde, 3/17
Earth’s bones —
rugged and worn —
harbor trees and leaf litter,
shadows and
history.
— C.Birde, 3/17
Dark star’s
collapse,
plummet
and crash.
Bones
broken,
protest
choked.
Wings tight-
folded,
neck arched
in sharp crescent;
plucked feathers
spread over green-
bladed grass.
Dark-bodied
constellation
pricks and studs
surrounding
trees,
mourns
in raucous,
full-throated,
voice.
— C.Birde, 3/1
Again,
the grind
and grumble
of saw and blade
disturb.
Air parts,
earth trembles;
Bark,
phloem,
cambium,
sapwood,
heartwood —
bitten,
pierced
and chewed
in joyless
hunger.
Sentinel Maples
or Evergreen Guard,
Merriam or
Addis Oak,
Hickory
or Treebeard –
When next I walk,
whose absence
will
I mark?
— C.Birde, 2/17
Snow,
sand,
sea;
surf,
sky, and
shadow —
Alliteration in
sequential
steps.
— C.Birde, 2/17
Winter wind
and
light,
strained through
needle
and
compact cone,
bear
the Ocean’s
breath.
— C.Birde, 2/17
Scythe of Winter —
wind that lashes,
scours,
cleans;
sweeps the path
clear
of excess;
prepares space
for tender,
new
growth.
— C.Birde, 2/17