Walking the Monochrome — A Dream

A close-up photograph of pebbly, worn, old macadam.
“Asphalt” — C.Birde, 1/21

Walking…

Walking through

a monochrome sea

of time-washed

macadam

devoid of lines,

of delineations…

On and onward

Each footfall,

a pulse unheard

Tirelessly moving

through this lost

and absented place

beneath first one,

then a second

overpass pressed –

in heavy arch and

swing;

a frown, a grin –

against a watery sky

Piercing

the dull shadows

of those vulturous

crossings,

consumed by half-light…

A road ahead,

hitherto unseen,

emerging,

uncurling,

curving outward

to meet a wide,

empty highway

Seeing,

on the further curve

(that generous hip

of curb),

lawn- and folding chairs

arranged and occupied

as if to spy

some soon-to-come

parade

Recognizing one

(see? he waves?)

among their numbers

Waiting now for the

solitary car to pass,

then another,

until it’s safe

to cross and join

the small throng gathered

in a wedge of light

that sifts between

the intersecting over-

passes sweeping

past and

overhead.

— C.Birde, 1/21

Winter Prayer — A Poem

Photography of a leafless, winter Norway Maple.
“Norway Maple in Winter” — C.Birde, 1/21

Peeled away

That tousled,

tumbled veil of leaves

A verdant memory left –

like a puff of breath –

clinging

to the form beneath

Imperfection,

rough beauty, &

strength laid bare

All manifestations

exposed

Revealed —

like prayer —

by the cold,

spare,

bone-bare,

honest touch

of Winter.

— C.Birde, 1/21

Worth — An Image

A photograph of green moss growing against a red brick.
“Moss” — C.Birde, 1/21

“You are

no less important

than the greatest

of mountains,”

she spoke in wind &

weather,

“& no more important

than the smallest

of mosses –

each,

a world all its own,

& a treasure.”

— C.Birde, 1/21

New Year, Old Friend — A Poem

A bare-branched Linden tree, brightly lit, against a clear-blue winter sky.
“Old Friend (Linden)” — C.Birde, 1/21

Keep at the chase,

the resplendent lights

and roar

of externalized joy

slipping –

annually,

perennially

through grasping

fingers…

Or…

Make a friend of sorrow

Shake its hand,

learn its curves

and contours,

its bruise-blue depth

and hue

Feel its familiar weight

softly brushed

against the shoulders’

curl

There is no shame here,

in acquaintance

of this humble keeper

of memory –

only an open door

to self-knowing,

a lifetime

of understanding,

recognized.

— C.Birde, 1/21

Rest-Less — Dreams

The view looking down the central space of a set of metal staircases.
“Stairs” — C.Birde, 12/20

Dreams:

Of rushing–

headlong

down flight after flight

of white, right-angled

staircases,

in hope of catching

& meeting

that bright elevator

when it completes

its descent;

Of accepting

the usher’s white rose

& following through

the auditorium’s dark,

near-empty aisles

to a seat farthest back

as the lecturer speaks

of death;

Of wading

in shoals of translucent

blue water,

waves lapping, pooling,

as I balance–

barefoot

on the world’s knobbed,

ancient spine

while a dolphin swims

just out of reach.

Dreams

& dreams

& dreams.

Forming,

flowing one into

another.

Half-remembered.

Scattered.

Tattered.

Incomplete.

Dreams interrupted

& rest-less

sleep.

— C.Birde, 12/20

So(u)lstice — A Poem

An image of a pine-cone candle, lit and shedding beautiful light.
“So(u)lstice Flame” — C.Birde, 12/20

Longest, darkest night

Sun stopped, soul stretched,

wing-tipped in slow glide

toward Winter

Lips recite a thousand

half-recalled names of light

Hands clasp a telling dark

shot through with promise

& promise & promises

commingled in this slimmest

slip of slim hours.

— C.Birde, 12/20

Jam — A Dream

A Jar of Jam, set on a sunlit windowsill.
“Jam” — C.Birde, 12/20

With a look in her eye –

imperious, sly –

that suggested

I knew her meaning,

she asked for a taste

(“a taste, just a taste!”)

of my “Boyfriend Jam”,

not jelly.

But I –

bewildered, confused,

unable to grasp

what she implied –

could only stare,

slack-jawed,

standing there,

& in vain futility

wonder.

— C.Birde, 12/20

Distance — A Poem

A semi-shadowed, tree-lined path leading to what appears to be a distant, open doorway.
“White Trail” — C.Birde, 12/20

Your kindness

wreathed

in all its singular

fading beauty

is all I need

to warm me

in this moment

of shared

isolation.

Your kindness

yes

and the memory

of past

kindnesses.

— C.Birde, 12/20