Always…

     always,

         forever & a day,

the sea at its base

heaving

breathing

exhaling salt spray

each deep indrawn breath

released

in swell & spume against

granite slabs & stacks,

blocks & columns…

And those longstanding stones,

grooved equally with age,

call out in reply:

Yes, oh yes…

Wear away our ancient bones…

Grind down our blades & edges…

Relieve us – bit by bit by bit –

of our ponderousness…

Blunt us… Smooth us…

Spread us out beneath your

foam-laced tide…

Grant us curves unknown,

unfelt before your touch

 ‘till we emerge,

reformed.

Always streaming,

     stroking,

           singing

in ceaseless gray-green respiration,

the sea accepts all pleas,

all hopes, all griefs…

laps & soothes & polishes…

Ever willing to oblige,

always,

     always,

         forever & a day,

    the sea receives,

survives.

— C.Birde, 9/20

Crickets’ hypnotic trill & hum

Crisp-fizzling leaves & grasses

Hymn of gilt-edged, waning light

Cool air folds up the landscape

Sundials of hearts’ chambers slip

Summer’s flame-crown sputters

Grinning,

dancing,

Autumn comes to burnish

a new measure…

— C.Birde, 9/20

No longer

can I write here,

beneath the shaded

pergola,

blooming with the hum

of bees and the scent

of Virgin’s Bower

as that flowering vine

casts off its petals

like late summer

snow.

No.

You misunderstand.

It is, now, no less

lovely, no less

pleasant;

but the task of fitting

thoughts to words

and words together

has been usurped.

Wait…

Again,

and yet again –

interruption.

The bowl of peanuts

swiftly empties.

Restraint.

Patience.

Calm.

Fine words, indeed;

but ill-fitted to

a chipmunk’s mouth

and never ceasing

needs.

— C.Birde, 9/20