Too slight
to bend
the primrose stem,
They perch –
small bright motes
of yellow light –
and pluck
the coneflowers’
seeded
crowns.
— C.Birde, 8/21
Too slight
to bend
the primrose stem,
They perch –
small bright motes
of yellow light –
and pluck
the coneflowers’
seeded
crowns.
— C.Birde, 8/21
“I am vast,
expansive…
I am the smallest
of small…”
She tilted
a smile.
“I am
– like you –
a pleasant contradiction
of selves.”
— C.Birde, 7/21
Apiarian hum among
spirea wands as bees
– carelessly, casually –
rearrange clusters of
blushing flowerheads
to their liking.
— C.Birde, 6/21
“I will rain,
&
I will reign.”
Her voice
called storms
& stroked
stone.
“As
I
will.”
— C.Birde, 6/21
Lilac perfume
& swoon
of chartreuse,
pollen-ed
air…
A-swim
& stippled in
Spring’s ritual
laving…
Every pore
aware.
— C.Birde, 5/21
“I am,”
she said
with sly smile
& wink,
“quite literally
living in the
(yellow-white-violet)
pink…”
— C.Birde, 4/2
“Yes,
I know…”
Even as she spoke,
her infinite heart
entrusted its pulse
to all things.
“O, yes,
I’ve missed you,
too.”
— C.Birde, 4/21
“In yellow,
I rejoice,”
she swept her arms
wide as her
grin,
“You will see me
a’thrill
in each daffodil &
forsythia,
each dandelion &
goldfinch
returning.”
— C.Birde, 4/21
“I may weep &
lash out
in wind &
thunder,”
she placed
a wreath
of dappled light
upon my brow,
“but
I will always
sing to you again
in hyacinths &
daffodils.”
-- C.Birde, 4/21
Crocus heart,
abloom
with the pulse
of Spring’s
footfall,
renewed.
Never cease
to beat
in this constricted
frame of thought
& sinew –
remain.
Always remain.
Forever wash
my gaze
in your vernal,
violet hue.
— C.Birde, 3/21