“You are Iight!”
Her voice sang
clear as a Winter’s night.
“Do not hide yourself
in darkness –
lend your spark
to others &,
together,
shine.”
— C.Birde, 1/21
Light — An Image
creative writing
Walking the Monochrome — A Dream
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
Reservoir of Dark — An Image
“Sit with me
on Winter’s knee…”
Her fern-tipped
fingers brushed
my brow.
“Together,
we’ll bear witness
to Light’s rebirth,
& Hope’s.”
— C.Birde, 1/21
Winter Prayer — A Poem
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
“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
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
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
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
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
Impress — An Image
“Learn to read
the patterns
in the snow,”
she urged,
“& know
you are not
— nor ever were –
alone.”
— C.Birde, 12/20
