The Plunge — A Dream

The Plunge.jpg

“The Plunge” — C.Birde, 4/17

Climbing, climbing, climbing. One step at a time. Ever upward. The rise and fall of my steps easy over rough ground and patchy turf. Cool air moves passed my lips. I inhale the night, fill my lungs, exhale. Each breath is as smooth and rhythmic as my gait. Still, I climb. Tireless. A modern-day Sisyphus, with no stone to push, yet no end in sight.

Climbing, climbing. Step after step.  Up and up. With nary an aching limb or rapid beat of heart. Grass gives way to patchy snow — a haphazard quilt of green and white. Until the snow’s mantle consumes the slope, uninterrupted. And  when, at last, I reach the top, my step neither slows nor falters — not to consider the path chosen, or exult in quiet isolation at the climb accomplished; not to take in the view of the vast night sky from the peak.

I simply — easily, one foot after another — step off the edge…

…as effortlessly and as resolutely as I had climbed…

…without quickening pulse or gasp of breath…

…and tumble down…

…through endless…

…swallowing…

…dark.

 

— C.Birde, 4/17

 

Quietude — A Poem

Quiet,

in the woods today  —

but for vermillion rush of Maples’ budding,

and wind scraping Autumn from pale Beech leaves,

and reverberating chorus of Spring Peepers’ awakening,

and whisk of garter snake slipping past pond’s lips,

and chipmunk calling the season to order,

and rain of woodpecker’s laughter.

All quiet,

in the woods today —

but for my intruding step,

heartbeat,

breath.

— C.Birde

Quiet Tourne Pond, March 2016.jpg

“Tourne Pond” — C.Birde, 3/16

 

 

Witness — A Poem

Hawk and Sparrow —

along the fallow edge they flew,

with wings and talons slicing

that perimeter unseen.

A dance of opposition —

capture and escape;

Unison of hearts intent

and beating.

Flash of yellow,

thrust of taloned legs —

Sparrow cries alarm.

Wings meshing,

beating earth and air.

Confusion of color —

ivory, woodland rusts and browns.

But Hawk cannot extract his prize,

cannot pull it under, out, and up

and lift away in flight.

Release is unexpected —

talons unclutch and liberate;

Sparrow streaks to ruffled safety

within the bristle of nearby hedge.

Beyond separating glass —

among fenced and netted stones

of slumbering, tongueless garden —

Nature’s urgent tug and pull

unfolds,

and I am Witness.

— C.Birde

 

Created with Nokia Smart Cam

“Hawk’s Calling Card” — C.Birde, 1/16

 

 

 

 

 

 

Apple of Change — A Dream

I’ve lost the apple, can’t find it any where. I describe it to them — such a remarkable apple! How could I have lost it?  So unusual. Perfect in its imperfection. Though its one side was misshapen, the other held the profile of a man, of Abraham Lincoln.

“Is this it?”

He hands an apple to me. Can it be? the one I dropped and lost mere moments ago? Yes! The weight of it fills my palm. I hold the curve of crisp fruit in my left hand between thumb and forefinger, and turn it back and forth to behold again its remarkable shape.

But…it’s changing…losing its blush of red and green hues; softening beneath my fingers’ grip. Slowly, it reshapes itself into something fleshy, pallid, disturbing. No longer an apple, I now hold what looks like a shrunken, knobby  head. A mashed face that sprouts mismatched ears. The narrow spaces behind those ears are filthy with crud. Beneath my fingers, the head moves and shifts and wriggles. Features still uncertain, it stares back at me with dark, bead-bright eyes. No longer a thing of wonder, it is now utterly repulsive.

Created with Nokia Smart Cam

“Apple Abe” — C.Birde, 12/15

Concurrences — A Poem

The air is sweet with toasted leaves

and glass-cool breeze against

my cheek.

While time unspools in eddying pools

and restless heaps about

my feet,

I walk through snapshots,

unsorted frames

of pasts and presents, overlaid —

Autumn picnics,

lone, caged bears,

peaked and slender monuments;

Alter-egos handed

candy, cider,

popcorn balls;

Raking seas of leaves

in mountainous heaps,

and leaping;

Hikes through mazes,

tall and golden;

Small hands growing,

letting go;

A hundred knocks and more

upon our door

in a single night —

My aging, ageless self sees

each image simultaneous;

Concurrent moments captured

amid the blaze of Autumn-colored

Now.

–C.Birde

Created with Nokia Smart Cam

“Autumn Leaves” — C.Birde, 11/1/15