
“Winter Solstice” — 12/18
On this,
the year’s longest
night,
the tide of dark
steps to the edge,
reverses course
t
o
w
a
r
d
light.
— C.Birde, 12/18
“Winter Solstice” — 12/18
On this,
the year’s longest
night,
the tide of dark
steps to the edge,
reverses course
t
o
w
a
r
d
light.
— C.Birde, 12/18
“Seeds” — C.Birde, 12/18
Scatter seed —
feed the small souls
scratching for survival
through dreams of
warmer days and
last season’s
leaf litter.
Scatter the seeds
of kindness.
Harvest songs
of
love.
— C.Birde, 12/18
“Violet” — C.Birde, 12/18
The foothills
filled with mist
and the crest
wore a crown of trees
and the light shone
softly,
softly
while I roved
a violet
dream.
— C.Birde, 12/18
“Teacup” — C.Birde, 12/18
Ring —
like a struck bell;
like a cup
emptied of all
its yesterdays —
in resounding vibration,
in clear invitation to
that sacred,
hollowed,
hallowed
heart space
within.
— C.Birde, 12/18
“Illusion” — C.Birde, 12/18
Observed directly,
the fabric
of illusion
— like a dream —
ripples,
s l e w s,
slips…
— C.Birde, 12/18
“Limits” — C.Birde, 11/18
Concealing,
revealing in equal turns,
the length and breadth
of night extends
its reach,
paints the lonesome
oaks —
bereft of leaves —
in silence…
Feeling our way
to the edges of that
darkened,
incurious landscape —
heeding, perhaps,
the dormant promise
of dreams and rest and
contemplation —
we hold aloft spheres
of shivering,
self-limiting light,
fearful of what we might
discover.
— C.Birde, 11/18