Here — A Poem

A photograph taken in Rocky Mountain National Park -- foreground of scrubby grasses, middle ground of conifers, background of mountains & bye sky.
“Old Fall River Road,
Rocky Mountain National Park” — C.Birde, 8/22

Locusts

     applaud

our efforts at the fringe

of pinetops & wind

set sharp against

the mountain’s

falling hip,

with thinned

& thinning blue sky

     caught

about our crowns

& wildflowers

nodding,

     sighing at our

earth-dusted feet –

Yes,

oh, yes,

you’re truly

     h e r e.”

— C.Birde, 8/22

“Wildflowers, RMNP” — C.Birde, 8/20

Excavation — A Dream

An artfully altered photo of a romantically derelict Irish castle.
“Cathedral” — C.Birde, 7/22

We ascend the gradual slope

of polished stone set between

transparent knee walls

(fingers trailing

brushed aluminum rails)

& leave behind

the noise & commotion

of lights & shops & cafés,

the bustle of others’ motion

& intent.

Here,

we pause to peer beyond

the glass-walled enclosure

of dark earth,

excavated oh so long ago;

to peer at the ancient stone-

boned cathedral held within.

Ghostly spires rise through

dusted half-light;

buttresses span a space of time

unmeasured;

battered curtain walls defend

the sacred, hollow space within.

Alone.

Solitary.

No witnesses, but we –

he

&

me.

— C.Birde, 7/22

An Absence of Color — A Poem

“Shadow” — C.Birde, 7/22

I will wear black…

The soot black

of ravens,

of crows…

The buff black

of bears’ rigor…

The inky black

of the New Moon’s

star-pricked night

as I mourn.

And,

within the depth

of my dark garment,

I will collect intent

until my shadow –

feathered in light –

blooms

in colors all

its own.

— C.Birde, 7/22

Wash — A Dream

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

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

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