Four snakes –
Slim black
ribbons
of tongue-
flicking,
flexible life
scrawled
across my path:
Four compass
points
of blessing
Four strokes
of wisdom
Four opportun-
ities to shed
my skin
& begin
again.
— C.Birde, 5/22
Wisdom — A Poem
animals
Lydia’s — A Dream
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
Bliss — A Poem
To sit outdoors
in cool spring
air
wearing a shawl
of sunlight
& accomplishing
no more
than the disport
of small friends
unseen
in a season’s span,
in their garments
fresh & shining –
bliss.
— C.Birde, 5/21
Stay — An Image
“Gwynnie” — 11/19
“Will you stay?”
Her wheaten
buff-gold
lemon-drop gaze
compells
without judgment.
“So that I
might
s
t
a
y
?”
— C.Birde, 11/19
Percussion — An Image
“Eastern Chipmunk” — C.Birde, 8/19
Castanet
R a T t L e..
Dash
& dart…
Chipmunk
departs,
cheeks full
of
peanuts.
— C.Birde, 8/19
Persistence — A Poem
“Squirrel” — C.Birde, 7/19
A triangulation
of squirrels
moon-white bellies
pressed
to cooling grass,
deliberates.
Slide-rule minds
consider
pergola
baffle
wind’s speed & direction.
Firctionless limbs
(five per each)
unaffected by
gravity
space
time.
A persistence
of squirrels
calculating
climbing
flying
empties the feeder
in ten minutes
flat.
— C.Birde, 7/19
Connection — Images
“Chipmunk” — C.Birde, 6/19
Follow me
through the garden
and
I’ll feed you
all the peanuts
my pockets
can hold.
— C.Birde, 6/19
“Chipmunk” — C.Birde, 6/19
Wisdom & Whiskers — A Poem
“Wisdom & Whiskers” — C.Birde, 1/19
“When the student
is ready,
the teacher will
appear”…
I am not yet seated
to accept
this instant,
this moment,
this now —
and the sage
arrives.
Paws correct
posture;
rough tongue
adjusts hands’
placement;
trace of whiskers
prickles,
challenges
focus.
Lap
full.
Heart
open.
Progress gauged
by tail’s tip;
critique delivered
in rumble and
purr.
— C.Birde, 1/19
Pace — An Image
“Orlando, Garden Snail” — C.Birde, 11/18
Snail’s pace —
wonderfully
well suited
to
snail space.
≈
— C.Birde, 11/18
“Spiral” — C.Birde, 11/18
Little Green Snakes — A Dream
“Little Green Snakes” — 10/18
Stop.
Just stop.
Don’t hand her another.
She’s too young, does not understand the harm she inflicts.
Each one – gripped in her dimpled, pudgy hands – wriggles, thrashes, droops,
is reduced to a limp length of still-brilliant spring green.
Laughing, she tosses them aside – lifeless; they land
belly up, curled on the flags beneath her high chair –
the first, the second, and the third.
Please – don’t hand her another.
She doesn’t understand.
Just stop.
Stop.
— C.Birde, 10/18
Nightjars & Damselflies 