Deep,
dark wood,
moon-bleached
and rinsed of light
of color.
Earth lifts —
root-twined,
rocky —
in slow and steady
upward arch
beneath a burden
of pines.
Gaunt figure.
Slack of limb
and wasted frame,
flame of hair and
spirit snuffed.
He shuffles unaware
in shabby slippers
and threadbare robe
between attentive,
watchful trees.
Alone.
Alone and ghostly.
Diminished.
Lost among
the elements,
whose beauty
would be magnified
did he not
haunt them
so.
— C.Birde, 6/20
“Wait…”
She took my hand.
“Bide with me,
until understanding
grows.”
Silently,
the flowers bloomed
and held
their perfumed
breath.
— C.Birde, 5/20
White-footed
meets
white foot
in size seven
garden shoe.
Furred meets
furless.
Warmth to
trembling,
whiskered
warmth.
Sustained,
untrained
diaphragmatic
“E” .
Instinctive —
achievement
of breath.
No scorpions
here.
All the same,
shake out
your boots.
— C.Birde, 5/20
“Bridal Wreath Spirea” — C.Birde, 5/20
“Tumble…”
She spoke in
a hundred voices,
a thousand voices;
in one.
“Fall
into the wreath
of my arms
&
remember.
Remember
l o v e.”
— C.Birde, 5/20
“Through the Reservoir Wood” — C.Birde, 5/20
These lush
green days
damp and cool
and stitched
with bird song
strewn like gifts
unwrapped
petals scattered
everywhere
white
chartreuse
careless pink
one thing
to do —
Thank you
thank you.
— C.Birde, 5/20
“Strewn” — C.Birde, 5/20
“Riddle” — C.Birde, 5/20
A riddle –
lacking keyhole,
handle, or
hinges;
An omen –
a stone rolled
‘cross a
tomb;
a door of gray boards,
sunk in the hill’s
chalk white face
and tucked beneath
a green garland of
ivy.
Exit and entry,
impossible
impractical.
Invitation in jest,
deep-set in the hill’s
soft ivied side,
behind peeling gray
boards that board up,
hide, and hoard
mysteries denied —
a riddle.
— C.Birde, 5/20
“Blue-Eyed Grass” — C.Birde, 5/20
An offering
of self
in blue-eyed
stare –
wholly
h o l y.
A world
all its
own.
Nothing more,
nothing
l
e
s
s.
— C.Birde, 5/20
“Blue-Eyed Grass (detail)” — C.Birde, 5/20
“”Immersion” — C.Birde, 5/20
Walk with me
Our faces tilted
up and beaming
catching light &
Truth
free of the dawn
of personal desire
Flash of Oriel’s
tangerine breast
Red-winged
blackbird’s trill falls
from the dead tree’s
totem
Grasses sigh and,
blue-eyed,
stare
Walk with me,
two yards between,
our footsteps
praising earth
water
air
Frame of reference —
Truth cares not
Precludes
Includes
Remains.
— C.Birde, 5/20
“Blue-Eyed Grass” — C.Birde, 5/20
“Cliff” — C.Birde, 5/20
Impressive feat –
to maintain verticality
complete
on the cliff’s sheer,
tiered,
limestone face…
Wearing black gear,
stamped white with
endorsements,
a boy on a bike,
pedaling furiously,
tirelessly.
The bike’s nubby,
rubber tires bite,
spray grit,
incise an ever-deepening
groove…
While,
stretched below,
beneath the cliff’s
jutting lip,
the sea sprawls
and waits
and heaves;
ultramarine
and green ;
swollen layers laced
and dimpled,
frothed white with
submerged spokes
and wheels
and legs
too numerous to count,
still churning…
Patiently,
the sea receives
the scree that spills
and spirals down,
down,
down…
accepts all offerings,
large and small,
as easily,
as hungrily
as any mortal boy’s youthful,
wide-eyed resolve.
— C.Birde, 5/20
“Cherry” — C.Birde, 5/20
She wore
a dress
of antique
pink
&
sang
to the fragrant,
f
a
l
l
i
n
g
rain.
— C.Birde, 5/20
