Dreams of Spring — A Poem



Still, She sleeps,

and doubtless dreams

(as do I)

of slips of things

new and green —

curling, budding, tendrilling.

Waxing Moon pressed to Her brow,

sunlight’s memory gathered to Her heart.

Veins, a migration of stirring wings.


patience —

The dream remains unbroken.

Disturb Her not.

And when I cry aloud for haste —


please —

remind me of the same.


— C.Birde, 2/16


Tree shadow over grass.jpg

“Shadow over Grass” — C.Birde, 2/16



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