Sea
calmly addressing
rocky shore,
wavelets undulating
Moon
lifting, watery & fully
formed,
the surrounding dark,
obliterating
And I,
breath and pulse
re-synchronizing,
one witness amid those
witnessing
And I,
my pockets brimming
with silvered,
shining,
chiming slips of light
to carry home.
— C.Birde, 9/21
Air,
thick ribbed
with insect song;
Sky,
stretched taut
with cloud,
thinned blue;
Tremor,
soft wrenching,
v i s c e r a l.
I think of you.
Small birds
sway clinging
to seed heads,
blown…
Always,
I think of
you.
— C.Birde, 9/21
“I have written
your name
in a hundred million
places…
Blade of grass…
Curl of breeze…
The underneath
of a white oak’s leaves…”
Her wink scattered
beams of light.
“Are you
l o o k i n g?”
— C.Birde, 9/21
A thousand suns
lift their heads
& turn as one
Unseeing
Unblinking
Bee-scented
rays a-tremble
Attuned to
unfathomable
source &
soundless
song.
— C.Birde, 9/21
“You speak
in terms of months,
seasons,
years…”
She smiled greenly,
shook
her leaf-crowned
head.
“Oh, but, darling,
you are rooted
in the
eternal.”
— C.Birde, 9/21
This morning,
at breakfast,
clad in green smoke,
Humming-girl paid
a visit and darted
between the fizz and
drizzle of gray rain,
unspattered.
Mid-air, she paused –
suggestion of form
and wings; an aura,
a blur –
to observe us encased
in our glass-walled
box.
We think ourselves
sovereign. Free.
Absurd.
In a breath and a wink,
she was
gone.
— C.Birde, 9/21
Nightjars & Damselflies 