Month: June 2022

Wash — A Dream

/ Carrie Birde / Leave a comment
An artfully altered photo of a reed basket sitting on green grass, half-filled with wooden clothespins.
“Clothespins” — C.Birde, 6/22

Wearing periwinkle

& faded denim,

hair hanging

(nearly)

to her waist in pale

drape of texture;

she stands outside

in soft-blooming

light,

clips glossy, new-

washed magazines

to the clothesline’s

drooping bow

where damp pages

dripdripdrip

themselves

to curling dryness

on the green

green grass

below.

— C.Birde, 6/22

Eye-to-Eye — A Dream

/ Carrie Birde / 1 Comment
An artfully altered photo of an eye.
“Eye-to-Eye” — C.Birde, 6/22

The Other –

whose eye is so close to mine, I cannot see…

is it he, or she who studies me? –

remarks upon the color of the iris of my eye:

      “Hazel

in dim light;

      greener

in bright.”

My response:

      “I know.”

Yet, despite our intimate proximity –

quite literally eye-to-eye –

I cannot see the color of the eye that peers      

at me.

— C.Birde, 6/22

Wood Thrush Wood — A Poem

/ Carrie Birde / 2 Comments
A photo of an earthen track through a woodland in mid-spring ...
“Wood Thrush Wood” — C.Birde, 6/22

Hands clasped

& pressed

to breast-

bones,

we stood –

enraptured –

as Wood Thrush

dropped

each liquid note

down through

the trees’ canopy –

like hope,

like light –

then alit

upon the path

before us

& took

his unassuming

bow.

— C.Birde, 6/22