The Month of Mars — A Poem

An artfully altered photo looking up the trunk of an old, bare-leafed oak tree, its torso stroked with shadow.
“Oak, March” — C.Birde, 3/22

O, March —

mercurial & a-brim with bluster

Encompassing

emotions’ scope, depth, & wide,

sweeping swings

Animate

Empathic

Passionate & weeping aloud

the world’s griefs,

shouting its humble victories

Accept me –

nearly as buoyant,

at turns razor-edged &

tearful in my seclusion;

your mortal expression,

your devotee.

I am yours.

— C.Birde, 3/22

Transformations — A Dream

A graphite line drawing of a masked woman squatting hunched with feathers growing from her arms, her hands and feet tipped in birds' claws.
“Transforming” — C.Birde, 3/22

I, a white-masked cipher curled

above the rusted pump within

old wisteria’s protective weave

& tangle,

I, a shadow leaning out beyond

the curtain of dry shadows’ twist

(feel the subtle separating prick

of pinfeathers’ growth forming

& transforming)

My bent neck lengthening from

hoary vines’ obscuring traceries

to better see beyond the mask’s

silk-ribbon-tassled boundaries

through soft-tumbled dark,

Two girls rapidly approaching,

two pairs of eyes wide-open

in faces upward tilting, &

two pairs of small hands lifting,

cupped & empty,

(to be filled? or hopeful offering?)

I, stretching further from wisteria

above the pump’s fixed drip drip

dripping to peer, beak-mouthed,

at splayed moth-pink palms

My auriculars hearing the voice

that scolds & calls from whence

the two girls emanated

My own clear-sighted eyes blinking,

behind the white mask seeing

their reluctant turning,

small hands falling slack against

their sides like dimmed clusters

fading

My cipher-self retreating to roost

concealed from undesired view

in wisteria’s curtaining tangle,

as the Scold approaches,

Folding new-feathered wing-arms

long against ribs & hips

(mid-transformation)

Reaching keen, claw-taloned tips

back toward the coverts of upper-

& undertails,

toward stub-tailfeathers’ oh-so-slow

inevitable forming

I, receding back into embracing

shadow & vines’ hushed rustling

while the abandoned pump drip

drip drips in trickle diminished,

yet always, ever flowing.

— C.Birde, 3/22

Scarlet — A Dream

An artfully altered photo of an exterior red door.
“Scarlet Door” — C.Birde, 3/22

Side-by-side-side,

three doors reside deep-

set in the flock-papered

wall –

     charcoal,

     green,

     scarlet;

each framed in carved

white painted wood.

Open –

     slowly

the charcoal door…

descend a shaft

of cinderblocks &

open-tread stairs

where below –

thickly wreathed

in coiling smoke –

a rust-&-iron cauldron

of daunting girth

bubbles unattended,

waiting,

     waiting to be stirred…

Back upstairs,

the green door waits…

creep down to find

a bright potting shed

where two cruel men

shift sharpened gazes

from a downcast girl

(she trowels dark earth

into cracked clay pots,

her denim overalls

streaked in the same);

in gleeful anticipation,

they seize upon their

new target with words

deriding & laughter

scraping up the stairway

(under the unseen

spider’s nest)…

Away,

     away

& firmly close the door.

One remains,

one only –

a shining scarlet mystery

waiting in plain sight –

unaddressed,

unapproached,

unaltered.

All potential wittingly

ignored.

— C.Birde, 3/22

Peregrine — A Poem

An artfully altered photo of blue sky and cloud, with the silhouette of a Peregrine Falcon.
“”Peregrine’s Sky” — C.Birde, 3/22

Peregrine scrawls

with wingtip, cry, & talon,

inscribes blue-breasted

sky

in spirals

of concentric pattern,

dives,

drives Red-tail,

with outsized insistence,

persistently

     a – w – a – y.

— C.Birde, 3/22

Lydia’s — A Dream

An artfully altered photo of a fawn, lying curled amidst green growth.
“Fawn” — C.Birde, 5/21

To lie

in soft grass,

slim green tongues

whispering

against ankles,

arms, & legs,

weaving

through hair &

white gauze gown

Body curved –

O, earthbound slip of

crescent Moon –

about the creature’s

small & delicate form

Tawny-furred &

white-star-spotted,

large soft ears

folded back against

elongated skull,

stilt legs bent

at sharp angles,

tail & flint hooves

tucked

And to know,

all in a rush –

like song & sunrise

& oak groves &

oceans –

that, in life,

this fawn was Hers

was Hers

H e r s

She is gone two years.

But O, Her fawn

endures.

— C.Birde, 2/22

Boa of Light — A Dream

An artful altered photo of  a journal page with a line drawing of a seahorse...
“Boa of Light” — C.Birde, 2/22

From above,

a boa of light descends

to encircle her neck

& drape her left shoulder –

l o o s e l y

See,

within this buoyant

tumble of golden light,

innumerable seahorses –

bobbing, swimming –

necks tucked inward,

tails curling, uncurling,

dorsal & pectoral fins

fanning air & propelling

delicate-ridged bodies

back upstream

to the light’s source

Amidst this,

she sits, smiling,

festooned

in the seahorses’

gyre & shimmer,

wreathed

in the radiance

of her own

h

 e

  a

    l

     i

      n

        g.

— C.Birde, 2/22