Color in Winter — A Poem


the birds flit and huddle

amongst silvered branches;

squirrels are plushly bundled

against the dipping cold;

thickened shadows stretch

and recline,

obedient to the sun’s lowered,

glancing angle —

All is blanched of color,

rinsed in flinty tones.

But within these walls

for a moment —

for a breath —

the ceiling is stroked with color;

a smooth field of white strung

with jeweled notes

as narrow rays strike

that small drop of faceted glass,

and pass

through myriad polished faces —






— C.Birde, 1/16



“Prism Light” — C.Birde, 12/15


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