Little Hawk — A Poem

“Perch” — C.Birde, 2/23

Heard

     before seen,

that bird of prey

small Hawk perched

atop bare maple

Seen

     before felt,

the lift & dive,

wings stretched wide

in flight

Felt

     before known —

Ribs’ cage, opened

Muscled heart, unlocked

Patience,

perspective,

awareness invited

in.

— C.Birde, 2/23

Winter Blues — a Poem

An artfully altered photo of a Blue Jay feather.
“Blue” — C.Birde, 12/22

Oh, falling sky – pieces of blue

tipped black & white & falling

Crying bright reply to peanuts

clacking against dark shingles

& rattling aluminum gutters,

white painted.

Jay-filled sky in blue shadows

falling toward my outstretched

hand, emptied now, but hope-

          fueled.

— C.Birde, 12/22

Sparrow — A Poem

An artfully altered photo of a blue pottery bird feeder.
“Blue Globe Feeder” — C.Birde, 11/22

Upon

a bed of seeds,

she rests,

folded within

the blue globe’s

hollow,

cracks open

striped hulls

& eats

But,

at my approach,

a l a r m

shell fragments

scatter

She seeks escape,

rehatches

her small self

on wings

          unfurled,

                    stretched

                              o  u  t.

— C.Birde, 11/22

Hum — A Poem

A photo of a tumble of wiled asters.
“Asters” — C.Birde, 10/22

Clouds

of bee-pricked asters

hum

while your voice –

     frilled in petals

     & promises –

carries

beyond the window’s

tidy panes,

weaves

through the bloom

& sway of October’s

violaceous hue

And

though I reach

for you,

this separation –

     seen,

     unseen –

remains.

— C.Birde, 10/22

Departure — A Poem

A b&w photo of our little old, ball-of-fire, doggie, sleeping in a patch of sunlight.
“Josie” — C.Birde, 10/22

Run, run, run

     run free,

unfettered by mortality’s

pale restraints as,

when first we met,

you ran,

Electron made flesh

in four fleet paws that,

for seventeen years,

obliged earth’s gravity

in jovial orbit.

Run, run, run

     run free with yip &

click & jingle, & leave us,

dear Josie,

to the heartbreak

& surreality of your

departure.

— C.Birde, 10/22

A color photo of our little dog at six months old, on the rocky shores of Maine.
“Josie, 2006” — C.Birde, 10/22

Crickets’ Song — A Poem

A photo of a swampy meadow filled with greenery, beneath a broad blue sky.
“Rattlesnake Meadow, Summer” — C.Birde, 8/22

I could sleep

away the season’s end,

head upon this pillow

of bronze ferns

& oak leaves turned

the color of doeskin,

Cheek pressed

to this still-green bed

of moss as you sing

against my ear

Please, let me remain

undisturbed until

the heat has passed

Though this means

I must wait

another year to hear

your song.

— C.Birde, 9/22

Glove — A Dream

A close-up photo of an adult cicada.
“Cicada” — C.Birde, 8/22

I wore,

on my right hand,

a glove of cicadas –

glittering,

shimmering,

whirring in patterns

improbable…

A glove of dialogue,

& movement,

& transformation

undeniable…

And when I tried

to release my hand,

my fingers,

of those shrill insects,

they clicked

& chittered

& shifted

& sang;

with buzzing intent,

they bit

& stung;

endured as one;

would not be

shaken off or free,

denied or dislodged,

but rather would

r e m a i n.

— C.Birde, 8/22