
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
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
Last evening’s sunset,
caught in sky and water.
Breathe,
and release.
— C.Birde, 8/16
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
I pause at the garden gate
to exchange brown-eyed glances
with Black-Eyed Susans.
— C.Birde, 8/16
Planted to tempt hummingbirds,
native honeysuckle climbs and clambers
up over the garden arch,
wriggles amongst the privet,
stretches and tumbles unrestrained
in quest of sunlight.
Scarlet success on all counts.
— C.Birde, 7/16
Long has Orion
slipped below the horizon.
The dog stars run loose
over the vast dark sky.
Crickets strum
barbed legs in song.
And I lie awake,
considering
the heat-washed nights
of Summer.
— C.Birde, 7/16
Haze thickened air
stretches over morning’s tender hours,
accompanied by the ratchet and whir
of cicada chorus —
promises of heat to come.
— C.Birde, 7/16
The benefits of casual gardening,
detailed in small passages –
Mystery squash,
casting tendrils toward the Burning bush,
abloom with ulterior motive.
The weed pail
filling,
before the work is done.
Rogue tomatoes,
erupting from loamy beds
and window baskets,
pushing aside rhubarb leaves.
Fireflies and ladybugs,
and slim-limbed mantises,
and beatific bees.
Queen Anne’s lace,
tatting the yard and
adorned in cabbage moths.
Patches of shade,
rotating about the house,
cool refuge from the sun’s eye.
Leeks’ heads
nodding heavy crowns;
bindweed
twining and trumpeting
Lady’s thumbs,
tickling catmint;
Black eyed Susans
studying Swiss chard.
The small yard
taking shape under
Nature’s guiding hand.
Near-motionless rabbits
nibbling sweet clover;
quick chipmunks
excavating neat holes
beneath tonic lavender;
and everywhere,
everywhere,
the stir and song
of birds.
— C.Birde, 7/17
Yes. Let’s pause a bit,
and while you bow to inhale
the roses’ breath,
I’ll gather Fennel and Fleabane
and frothing Queen Anne’s Lace
to weave together —
a Summer Crown
to set upon your brow.
— C.Birde, 7/17
Blazing July sun
flings spears of heat and light
as it advances through the garden.
— C.Birde, 7/16