Hollows — A Dream

An artfully altered photo of a hand and forearm, outstretched in open-palm gesture.
“Gesture” — C.Birde, 12/21

Plush dark…

Through this obscurity,

slowly, the forearm arcs

& scythes,

wrist rotating outward

in sinuous motion until

the palm cups skyward

(gibbous moon gesture)

& fingertips, at length,

draw into line the nest…

A compact bird’s nest,

expertly woven of twigs

& grass & random fibers,

its hollow delicately lined

& not-quite-wholly-filled…

At rest within its center,

a singular egg of pale blue

uncrack’d,

intact.

Two hollows,

full of expectation….

Empty hand & nest…

— C.Birde, 12/21

Starlings — A Poem

An artfully altered photo representational of a flock of birds.
“Flock” — C.Birde, 12/21

Catching light,

those flecked dark wings speak

of seasons & distance

& time’s ceaseless passing

The cycles repeat

R e p e a t i n g

Gather me

aloft in collective’s embrace

of wingbeats & banking turns

& maneuvers unspoken,

understood by the whole

In spite of all,

I stand pinned below

attentive

The cycle repeating

R e p e a t s

— C.Birde, 12/21

Improbable — A Dream

An artfully altered photo of a pair of aviator sunglasses.
“Aviators” — C.Birde, 11/21

Improbable box of peculiar dimension

(larger within than without)

& covered in plush fuchsia velvet

Upon lifting the lid

(which doubles as inset tray),

see, set deep within,

a turntable with LP rotating

r o t a t i n g

Lift the record up & out

Tilt it so light catches

& runs along the arc of grooves

incised upon its surface

Note, with some dismay,

that the wider, ungrooved rim slopes

& wriggles across

those tight concentric rings of song

(doubtless interruption)

& arcs toward the cardboard core

where the artist’s name is stamped:

L e d   Z e p p e l i n

Sudden undeniable urge to hear

that singular song incised upon the vinyl

Place the record back to spinning

Drop the needle,

see it skip & slide across the grooveless rim

(soundless, songless)

to bump & hiss against the printed core

Again

a g a i n

Fruitless effort

Reset the tonearm to its resting place

Return the improbable box-lid-tray

(smaller without than within)

What’s this?

Resting, now, in the tray’s concavity,

a fabric-wrapped-something that,

upon the freeing of its cloth,

is revealed to be nothing less than

the aviator sunglasses of

musician,

songwriter,

multi-instrumentalist,

& record producer extraordinaire

J i m m y P a g e.

Delighted, hold them cradled in hand

as the improbable & unexpected gift

(treasure)

that they are.

— C.Birde, 11/21

Tea with Autumn — A Poem

An artfully altered photo of fallen leaves.
“Leaf-Fall” — C.Birde, 11/21

Underfoot,

restive shift & drift

of fallen leaves –

maple, oak, hickory.

Above,

broad sky stirred

to depth of blue

half-recalled,

unprecedented.

Linger, Autumn.

The kettle boils –

always have I time

for you.

— C.Birde, 11/21

Affirmation — An Image

An artfully altered photo of a Sweetgum tree, whose leaves have turned yellow and orange, against a blue sky.
“Sweetgum” — C.Birde, 11/21


“I shall wrap myself

in Autumn blue,

stitched all through

with gold,”

— her affirmation glittered,

scattered light

as she spoke —

“& inhale

the pale pink fragrance

of the season’s

final, faded

rose…”

— C.Birde, 11/21

Objection — A Poem

An artfully altered photo of a nest of reddish-purple, dried Oxalis leaves.
“Dried Oxalis” — C.Birde, 11/21

The oxalis –

brought indoors

before first frost,

to save it

from expiry –

drops leaves

       wine-dark

       shriveled

       paper-dry

Tongueless

Mute objection

of cold & dark

to come.

— C.Birde, 11/21

Liminality — A Dream

An artfully altered photo of a made bed, with white coverelet and pillows.
“Bed” — C.Birde, 11/21

Asleep or awake…

In liminal space,

she sits –

gauze covered –

on the bed’s edge

Considering

Reflecting

Her form,

a map of contours –

shoulders & hips,

waist & spine,

profile;

Her hair,

a knot at the base

of her neck;

All

softly blurred under

film-white layers

as she shifts,

lowers

d

o

w

n

atop the coverlet

gently beside me,

entirely at ease

in liminal space

Neither asleep

nor awake…

— C.Birde, 11/21