
Dogwood petals
filtering light
in cutwork pattern —
confirmation of
Spring.
— C.Birde, 5/17

Dogwood petals
filtering light
in cutwork pattern —
confirmation of
Spring.
— C.Birde, 5/17
Trillium waited
in the garden’s corner.
She smoothed the rain from her brow,
shook out her frock,
and —
in her own time,
in her own fashion —
joined
the
dance.
— C.Birde, 4/17
Giddy Spring,
when all Nature
conspires
in song,
and courtship,
and joined, jubilant
SHOUT!
— C.Birde, 4/17
Always,
always in motion;
even those rare moments
we remember
to pause…
— C.Birde, 11/16
Hold me.
Smooth the seams from
my brow
with a song,
your voice —
cool and blue and constant —
a frill
against my ear.
Take my grief,
the ballast trapped
within heart and head and
too-narrow frame.
Lift it.
Erode it,
with patient certainty,
as the shells and stones
that lace your shore.
Scour all to
glittering, gathering sand
that gives beneath each step,
then lifts and
blows and
scatters.
— C.Birde, 10/16
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
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
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