Three Seconds — A Poem

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“Three Seconds” — C.Birde, 9/19


Soft blue August, sundered.

Thunder in collision and impact.

Red strikes black strikes white.

Picket gate disintegrates,

yields to entry.

Wood & plastic, metal & glass –

into arc & orbit, cast.

Hundred-year hedge’s roots

from earthen beds wrested.

Eupatorium, liatris, bronze fennel,

tender pink anemone

bend and break and bow

to churning wheels’ authority.

Incongruous scent of mint.

Propelled within the yards’

green grass,

the battered black pick-up

rests, at last –

unexpected ornament;

astounding, idling.

Three seconds.

Split. Smashed. Bisected. Dashed.

The space between breaths,

from start to finish.

Ends and beginnings and ends,




— C.Birde, 8/19

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