Soft moss and rosettes of lichen embroider the pebbled bark of this young dogwood.
Lichened Dogwood — An Image
Bloom in Winter — A Poem
Amnesiac Winter
paid a brief visit,
confused,
complaining of jet-stream detours,
converging pressures,
ingratitude;
of invitations received late
and mislaid.
Unsettled,
he wandered,
muttering a fog,
flinging fistfuls of hail
over greening lawns and
bruising the blooms
of pink-fringed trees
that had the nerve to flower
in his absence.
— C.Birde
Antique Cherry — An Image
The antique cherry wears a gown of quilt-worked bark.
Separation — A Poem
Weaving through
the misted morn,
through soft-furred edges
of gray chill,
I stirred a cloud of birds —
blackbirds, all.
As one, they rose,
an avian inhalation,
a gasp
of feathered wings;
when I only wish to be
the tree
in whose branches
they might alight.
–C.Birde
Sprite — An Image
I am fortunate this creature found me intriguing enough to make her presence known, and elated she allowed me to photograph her. We sat together a moment, amongst the leaf-fall and gilt trees, sipping cold, sweet dew from acorn caps while admiring the advancing morning’s play of light and color. Then, without a word, she vanished. Sprites are mercurial that way.
Autumn’s Nest — A Poem
The day —
unseasonably warm.
The sun —
a smudged, pale disk
winking
through atmospheric haze.
How did he see it?
Suspended
within erect vertical grays
of leafless limbs?
A fibrous tea-cup
extended
in the slim tree’s
thumb and forefinger.
In offering,
in invitation
to sip
the echo of Spring.
–C.Birde
Young Beech — An Image
A young beech gathers sunlight in its parchment leaves and whispers of an Autumn reluctant to depart.
Sunset — A Poem
The night sky bloomed
with color —
unexpected as song,
welcome as benediction.
Rapturous,
the descending hues
of indigo and blue,
rose madder and scarlet
kissed the fringe
of treetops gold.
“Hurry,” he urged,
so I ran —
down the walk
through the frost-edged eve
into rapidly falling dark
to stand alone
as the paean subsided
amidst soaring
cathedral
trees.
— C.Birde
Merriam Oak — An Image
Merriam Oak has let go a sheaf of bronze-bright leaves, each as large as my booted foot, or larger. To walk beneath these bare and spreading boughs is to kick through a three-season journal, each leaf an entry, while the author prepares for rest and reflection during the spare Winter days to come.
Morning Walk — Images
We walked this morning. Two bipeds, one quadruped, together breathing in a mild mid-morning.
Rattlesnake Meadow flickered with a wind’s breath that slipped between blown cattails. Snowbirds tittered and darted with sparrows too quick, too subtle for my eye to name.
A Red-tailed Hawk skimmed the meadow’s reed-sawn edge to roost in a slow-decaying tree. Patient, he surveyed the landscape. So much hidden within those pale grassy blades — I missed the Snowy Egret; I’m certain he did not.
At our walk’s end, a white-tailed deer wove ahead across our path, unconcerned by our intrusion. A fortunate start to a late-November day.