
She pulls
the blankets up,
tucks us in,
and encourages us —
just a little longer —
to rest.
— 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

Winter arrived —
fashionably late —
and spread her
glittering,
white-trimmed mantle
without haste,
so all observing
might recall,
in awe,
her beauty.
— C.Birde, 2/17


Whether kind
or cruel,
helpful
or hindrance,
generous
or self-serving,
compassionate
or hard-hearted,
Whether we include
or isolate,
build bridges
or erect walls,
We experience mortality
in union
with all
creatures.
And the shadows
we cast
betray
our
actions.
— C.Birde, 2/17

Dawn arrives,
despite the wounds,
the worry.
An invitation
to renew hope,
to begin
again.
— C.Birde, 2/17