I heard the Wood call
in its moss-furred tongue.
I returned
in answer to that heart’s echo,
and was welcomed
as though time had not slipped
and shifted.
— C.Birde, 9/16
Moss Wood — An Image
Earthworm Stylus — A Poem
Intentions aside,
their bodies incise
the dry trail’s
dusted length
with their
desperate
search
for
m
o
i
s
t
u
r
e.
— C.Birde, 9/16
Four Paws — A Poem
Four paws pause
on the mountain’s graveled flank —
she gathers news
from weed and shrub,
root and stone;
pulls me along.
No matter that I am
near senseless to all
she perceives –
I am content
to wait and contemplate
the weave of breeze
among branch and leaf
pressed to the breast
of gray-clad sky;
to gather for safe-keeping
the coruscating mantras
of crickets, birds and tree frogs
as wards against
future silence.
I am content
to admire those
steely wildflowers
that scatter fairy light
over the forest’s
parched floor
for as long
as I am permitted…
Until, urgently,
I am pulled
to move again —
rapidly and ever onward —
toward the next
newsworthy
site.
–C.Birde, 9/16
Helianthus — Images
Helianthus nods and smiles
beyond the window,
curious why I sit indoors
when I could be outside,
adorned in goldfinches
and bees.
— C. Birde, 9/16
The Linden — A Poem
Stay…
Linger beneath the linden —
that tree of bees
and heart-shaped leaves.
We’ll spread a blanket
in restless shade
over the drowsing heads
of sweet clover,
and name the birds’
erratic patterns
scrawled across the sky.
Together, we’ll drift
as Summer slips
us by.
— C.Birde, 8/16
Periphery — A Poem
Son, sun, and Summer
ease their way toward
absence —
I am well attuned
to the cycle.
And experience
has shown
it appears
far easier to leave
than it feels
to be
left.
— C.Birde, 8/16
Heat — A Poem
I wear the heat like fatigue —
a pearled and sequined sheath
that restricts breath and movement,
quells thought,
and drains
creative impulse
steadily
away.
— C.Birde, 8/16
Yesterday’s Light — A Poem
Gather all the light of yesterday —
sun and moon, star and fire,
in shafts and beams and sparks.
Strain thrice —
of cloud and shadow,
and random occlusion
(reserve for another use).
Pour into large, wide-mouthed jar
with tight-fitting lid
and set to distill
in a south-facing window
for three weeks.
Taste, to assure desired strength.
Decant into phials and bottles.
Inhale to counteract the blues.
Dab on pulse points to restore the heart.
Apply to the soles of feet to lighten the step.
Stroke over eyelids to find silver linings.
Touch to the tongue’s tip to sweeten words.
Glide over lips to revive a smile.
Pour over ice in Summer and serve
with mint and lemon slices.
In Winter, heat with cinnamon
and cloves and allspice
and ladle into mugs.
Share with friends, family,
and strangers.
Use generously.
— C.Birde, 8/16
Black-Eyed Susan — An Image
I pause at the garden gate
to exchange brown-eyed glances
with Black-Eyed Susans.
— C.Birde, 8/16
Shades of Green — A Poem
Color of marbles and Luna moths and sea glass,
of raw youth’s inexperience
and cold hard cash.
Color of movements and parties;
the chlorophylled light
of leaf-fringed canopies.
Color of magic and malachite,
myth and tea,
of life and growth and jealousy.
The signature hue of a singular Fairy.
Color of dryads and druids and
emerald isles;
the color caught in Lena’s eyes.
Color of farmers’ markets,
Summer’s ache,
and tomatoes’ leathery leaves,
the too-sharp scent of just-pulled weeds.
Color of woodlands and meadows and mantises.
Moss- and fern-touched,
the shades of green.
— C.Birde, 7/16
