Asters — A Poem

An artfully altered photo looking up through the leafy stems and pink blooms of New England Asters.
“New England Asters” — C.Birde, 9/21

Air,

thick ribbed

with insect song;

Sky,

stretched taut

with cloud,

thinned blue;

Tremor,

soft wrenching,

     v i s c e r a l.

I think of you.

Small birds

sway clinging

to seed heads,

blown…

Always,

I think of

you.

 

— C.Birde, 9/21

Queen Oak — An Image

An artfully altered photo looking up the trunk of a great oak tree and through its leafy limbs.
“Queen Oak Tree” — C.Birde, 9/21

“I have written

your name

in a hundred million

places…

Blade of grass…

Curl of breeze…

The underneath

of a white oak’s leaves…”

Her wink scattered

beams of light.

“Are you

l o o k i n g?”

— C.Birde, 9/21

Freedom — A Poem

An artfully altered photo of a rain-slicked wildflower garden in a 100-plus-year-old suburb.
“Garden of Rain” — C.Birde, 9/21

This morning,

at breakfast,

clad in green smoke,

Humming-girl paid

a visit and darted

between the fizz and

drizzle of gray rain,

unspattered.

Mid-air, she paused –

suggestion of form

and wings; an aura,

a blur –

to observe us encased

in our glass-walled

box.

We think ourselves

sovereign. Free.

Absurd.

In a breath and a wink,

she was

gone.

— C.Birde, 9/21

Unnecessary — A Dream

An artfully altered photo of mirror-imaged trees, hedge, reflections to offer a dreamlike, psychedelic image.
“Unnecessary” — C.Birde, 8/21

Before

before I

before I can

   comprehend the

nature

nature of

nature of this

   funerary scene &

extend

extend my

extend my offer

   of service …

The scenario, in its entirety –

options, challenges, solutions –

have all efficiently been

noted, discussed, addressed

with no need of my aid &

I can

I can only

I can only stand &

   observe

from a distance

of un-necessity.

— C.Birde, 8/21

Summer Slice — A Poem

An artfully altered photo of sliced peaches on a white plate.
“Peaches” — C.Birde, 8/21

Gluttonous of peaches –

I am grasping

  greedy

    miserly to shameful

degree.

Let the juice run down

the chin”?

Nonsense.

Folly.

Shameful profligacy.

Serrated knife peels

brushed-velvet skin,

slices slim bright grins

from deep-grooved

stone.

Like myth & love,

I swallow whole.

Every liquid vein,

each mouthful –

  mine alone.

    Savor

      savor…

Ingest

the whole of Summer’s

transient warmth,

ward against impending

cold.

— C.Birde, 8/21