The Month of Mars — A Poem

An artfully altered photo looking up the trunk of an old, bare-leafed oak tree, its torso stroked with shadow.
“Oak, March” — C.Birde, 3/22

O, March —

mercurial & a-brim with bluster


emotions’ scope, depth, & wide,

sweeping swings



Passionate & weeping aloud

the world’s griefs,

shouting its humble victories

Accept me –

nearly as buoyant,

at turns razor-edged &

tearful in my seclusion;

your mortal expression,

your devotee.

I am yours.

— C.Birde, 3/22

Transformations — A Dream

A graphite line drawing of a masked woman squatting hunched with feathers growing from her arms, her hands and feet tipped in birds' claws.
“Transforming” — C.Birde, 3/22

I, a white-masked cipher curled

above the rusted pump within

old wisteria’s protective weave

& tangle,

I, a shadow leaning out beyond

the curtain of dry shadows’ twist

(feel the subtle separating prick

of pinfeathers’ growth forming

& transforming)

My bent neck lengthening from

hoary vines’ obscuring traceries

to better see beyond the mask’s

silk-ribbon-tassled boundaries

through soft-tumbled dark,

Two girls rapidly approaching,

two pairs of eyes wide-open

in faces upward tilting, &

two pairs of small hands lifting,

cupped & empty,

(to be filled? or hopeful offering?)

I, stretching further from wisteria

above the pump’s fixed drip drip

dripping to peer, beak-mouthed,

at splayed moth-pink palms

My auriculars hearing the voice

that scolds & calls from whence

the two girls emanated

My own clear-sighted eyes blinking,

behind the white mask seeing

their reluctant turning,

small hands falling slack against

their sides like dimmed clusters


My cipher-self retreating to roost

concealed from undesired view

in wisteria’s curtaining tangle,

as the Scold approaches,

Folding new-feathered wing-arms

long against ribs & hips


Reaching keen, claw-taloned tips

back toward the coverts of upper-

& undertails,

toward stub-tailfeathers’ oh-so-slow

inevitable forming

I, receding back into embracing

shadow & vines’ hushed rustling

while the abandoned pump drip

drip drips in trickle diminished,

yet always, ever flowing.

— C.Birde, 3/22

Scarlet — A Dream

An artfully altered photo of an exterior red door.
“Scarlet Door” — C.Birde, 3/22


three doors reside deep-

set in the flock-papered

wall –




each framed in carved

white painted wood.

Open –


the charcoal door…

descend a shaft

of cinderblocks &

open-tread stairs

where below –

thickly wreathed

in coiling smoke –

a rust-&-iron cauldron

of daunting girth

bubbles unattended,


     waiting to be stirred…

Back upstairs,

the green door waits…

creep down to find

a bright potting shed

where two cruel men

shift sharpened gazes

from a downcast girl

(she trowels dark earth

into cracked clay pots,

her denim overalls

streaked in the same);

in gleeful anticipation,

they seize upon their

new target with words

deriding & laughter

scraping up the stairway

(under the unseen

spider’s nest)…



& firmly close the door.

One remains,

one only –

a shining scarlet mystery

waiting in plain sight –




All potential wittingly


— C.Birde, 3/22

Peregrine — A Poem

An artfully altered photo of blue sky and cloud, with the silhouette of a Peregrine Falcon.
“”Peregrine’s Sky” — C.Birde, 3/22

Peregrine scrawls

with wingtip, cry, & talon,

inscribes blue-breasted


in spirals

of concentric pattern,


drives Red-tail,

with outsized insistence,


     a – w – a – y.

— C.Birde, 3/22