Wash — A Dream

An artfully altered photo of a reed basket sitting on green grass, half-filled with wooden clothespins.
“Clothespins” — C.Birde, 6/22

Wearing periwinkle

& faded denim,

hair hanging

(nearly)

to her waist in pale

drape of texture;

she stands outside

in soft-blooming

light,

clips glossy, new-

washed magazines

to the clothesline’s

drooping bow

where damp pages

dripdripdrip

themselves

to curling dryness

on the green

green grass

below.

— C.Birde, 6/22

Eye-to-Eye — A Dream

An artfully altered photo of an eye.
“Eye-to-Eye” — C.Birde, 6/22

The Other –

whose eye is so close to mine, I cannot see…

is it he, or she who studies me? –

remarks upon the color of the iris of my eye:

      “Hazel

in dim light;

      greener

in bright.”

My response:

      “I know.”

Yet, despite our intimate proximity –

quite literally eye-to-eye

I cannot see the color of the eye that peers      

at me.

— C.Birde, 6/22

Wood Thrush Wood — A Poem

A photo of an earthen track through a woodland in mid-spring ...
“Wood Thrush Wood” — C.Birde, 6/22

Hands clasped

& pressed

to breast-

bones,

we stood –

enraptured

as Wood Thrush

dropped

each liquid note

down through

the trees’ canopy –

like hope,

like light

then alit

upon the path

before us

& took

his unassuming

bow.

— C.Birde, 6/22

Wisdom — A Poem

An artfully altered photo of a Garter Snake moving through the leafmold along the forest floor.
“Garter Snake” — C.Birde, 5/22

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

Cut Down — A Dream

A photo of the base of a dogwood tree's trunk amongst green grass.
“Cut Down” — C.Birde, 5/22

Sleep interrupted

by strobe of lights –

red & blue & white

stroked in rotation

of flashes against

the ceiling …

Rise & slip

across the floor,

part the drapes,

& kneel –

forehead to glass –

at the window…

Peer out & down,

absorb the scene

below…

Police & fire &

emergency trucks

cluster in the rain-

flooded street…

People mill & study

their handiwork…

The dogwood –

stretched prone –

lies on wet grass,

a graceless knot

of limbs pricked

in pink blooms…

Twenty-six years

of growth,

cut down…

All that remains,

a ragged stump

in broken light

& rain.

 

— C.Birde, 5/22

 

Directions — A Dream

An artfully altered black-and-white photo of Stonehenge.
“Stonehenge, ’91” — C.Birde, 5/2

Don’t.

Don’t ask me for directions

as you slowly drive by,

one of a long line

in a ribbon

of cars.

I walk

barefoot through downpour &

darkness at the road’s edge;

mud & grit & gravel scour

the tender soles

of my feet…

Ahead,

Stonehenge lifts in pale light…

I stand

at the striped carnival kiosk,

sorting paper scraps from

nickels from bright gold-

foiled chocolate coins;

unable to purchase

entrance.

You think

I know the way

forward?

I think

not.

— C.Birde, 5/22