Eviction — A Dream

An altered photo of a small "fairy house" tucked into a nook at the base of a great, old tree.
“Bungalow” — C.Birde, 4/21

Evicted.

Expelled.

Dispossessed

of that old house

on the hill.

Three stories

of tilting timeworn

clapboard

& peeling paint

flaking over tired

green grass.

Seize it. Take it.

And welcome.

It matters not at all.

For in the moonless

night-spangled

dark,

I moved (removed),

like guileless wind,

all small & coveted

prized possessions –

a whole life’s worth

of work & soul

& pulsing wounded

heart –

to the small brown

bungalow nested

oh-so-sweetly

in the valley

below.

— C.Birde, 4/21

Visit — A Dream

An altered photo of my dear friend.
“L” — C.Birde, 4/21

So grateful

for your visit,

so many months

since your last.

A full year since…

Over a year…

Seeing you at all –

as you were,

as always you will be

in memory –

is Gift enough.

Even if

you don’t speak,

don’t see me,

don’t stay.

Grateful,

all the

same.

— C.Birde, 4/21

Assignment, Cake — A Dream

At atmospheric photo of leafless trees at night crowding around a pool of yellow light.
“Atmosphere” — C.Birde, 3/21

Sent out

away from this

bright impersonal

space

with all its

glittering crosstalk

& hectic motion…

Cast out…

into umbrous night

& with an errand tasked:

return with cake

Pavement,

heaved & crack’d & bound

around in encroaching,

tangled trees that bow

& rub together limbs

all but leafless…

And,

at the farthest end –

near swallowed up

in starless scrub –

a structure

O, architectural wonder!

Entirely comprised

of swoops

     & swirls

          & curves

of hammered metal

sheets symmetrically

arranged to either side

of a single, central

door…

And,

above this fabulous

entry’s lintel –

nested amidst curls &

intersecting twines

of metal –

an enormous lemon,

all aglow in halo

of soft yellow

light…

Indeed,

the only light to move

or chase throughout

the whole benighted

place.

But,

nowhere,

anywhere at all,

a single frosted piece

of cake

in sight.

— C.Birde, 3/21

Streaming — A Poem

An augmented photo of a stream coursing past mossy stones.
“Stream” — C.Birde, 3/21

Dig

Dig in

Digging

     deep

The damp

     pools

          seeps

     through

shifted

     soil

Layers

of earthen

garment

     moved

Break

     through

The silver

     stream

          below,

     nested in

a sandy

     bed

of intuition,

courses,

un

     re

          strain

ed,

like a vein

     of song.

— C.Birde, 3/21

Construct — A Dream

An image of the interior scaffold structure of a huge greenhouse.
“Scaffold” — C.Birde, 3/21

The boy has died.

One third

her not yet twenty

years.

     Intolerable.

     Unbearable.

Here:

within this rough

underground womb

of dull-winking

hematite,

through the crucible

of her direction,

the memorial

is constructed.

She oversees

the smooth stage’s

raising;

the steel frame’s

enclosure struck

with lights;

white screens,

like windless sails,

unfurled.

His image –

     luminous,

     aflare –

will transcend

the dark &

breach the void.

The boy has died.

She wears the burden

of his absence

with fury –

raw-edged &

     bristling.

— C.Birde, 3/21

Shred — A Dream

Photograph of shredded bits of newspaper piled in a heap.
“Shred” — C.Birde, 3/1

World

of black & white

entirely comprised

of newspaper

torn to bits,

shredded & strewn

over the landscape,

covering trees &

earth & every little

growing thing

as far as the eye

can see.

An

earth-formed sea

of black & white –

delineated,

bisected,

by a raised ridge

of torn words &

images pressed

into a pastiche

spine.

Carefully

tread this crude

catwalk

gangplank

promenade

balance beam.

Follow one

behind the other

‘til from behind

a copse of print-

wrapped trees

a she moose looms,

protective of her

calf…

Veer off

the path & wade

through the swamp

of printed words

that tugs

at boot & stride.

See there,

within the shred

of black & white,

the doe at rest,

& tucked within

her body’s curve,

a solitary small

& spotted

fawn.

— C.Birde, 3/1

Looking Backward — A Dream

A cluster of brilliant orange orchids, hanging from overhead.
“Orchid” — C.Birde, 2/21

Solitary passenger

in the way, way back

of this long green

station wagon

Tailgate gaping

Sweet tabby cat

(alternating gray

& tea-with-cream)

for company

Far up front –

with select passengers –

the vehicle’s pilot

guides it backwards

along a curving road

as, to the left,

the great, gray sea

falls down, away,

& to the right

& overhead twists

a jungle-y clamor

of green

See?

Amongst those vines

& great broad leaves,

the Good Lord Bird!

And more –

Downy,

Red-Headed,

-Bellied…

Uncharacteristically

slipping sturdy beaks

into vibrant blooms

& sipping

Elating

Breathtaking

Calling out their names

& pointing

But to whom?

For they,

so far up front,

so far away,

can’t see.

— C.Birde, 2/21

Just Desserts — A Dream

A close-up of a woman's lavender-violet hair.
“Violet” — C.Birde, 1/21

The gray remains

Ubiquitous

Unchallenged

Bleak winter sky,

drained of color,

extends its influence

Except…

Except for her —

Take my hand

See there, ahead?

Her once-dark-hair

now silvered violet?

Watch her cross

the intersection, see?

Pause here with me

The light,

so slow to change…!

Impatient, we cross

& follow where she leads

up streets unpeopled –

empty, too, of traffic –

her lead by swift steps

increasing until,

down an alleyway she slips

& vanishes completely.

But wait….

This shop unknown…

& there,

beyond plate glass see

her hair?

Sleek lavender strands

a-gleam through laden

wire shelves?

Shelves replete with sweets

of every kind

in Prismacolor hues –

cakes & cookies, pies,

macarons;

pink & green, fuchsia, blue.

Each sweet with care

displayed

& oh so beautiful.

Yes, of course

Take your time

Wander

Look before you choose.

But here,

this single slice of cake –

frosted white,

layers bright cerulean blue –

is mine.

— C.Birde, 1/21

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