The snowbirds
have returned –
those flitting,
avian shadows,
bow-tie tailed
& dapper;
flown in on
the new moon’s
dark veil
to releaf
the beeches’ bare,
uplifted boughs
in monochrome
& song.
— C.Birde, 11/22
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
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