Fixation — A Poem

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“The Trees” — C.Birde, 11/18

 

     

The occlusion exists,

      persists

resists clear sight.

We look, but do not see.

Focus trained myopically

on that bit,

that sliver,

that comfortable

shard of malleable truth.

      Distortion…

            Contortion…

Fleet glimpses of the whole

caught unexpectedly.

Insects trapped

in self-made amber —

dismissing whole forests

for the isolated

tree.

 

— C.Birde, 11/18

Toads — A Dream

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“Frog” — C.Birde, 10/18

 

Caught within the tangle of scratching, leafless forsythias at the road’s edge — that pale, packed strip of gravel, bending, bow-like and away left and right. Beyond the road’s farther edge, where the intrusion of gravel gives way to tumbled brown earth; beyond the earth’s gradual slope and the slim, young trees arranged haphazardly over that gentle declination — a ribbon of glittering blue, a deep lake of still water, its surface stirred by breeze. They have already crossed, slipped through the trees, their hands tracing those slender trunks as they passed, headed for the water, out of sight.

Watching, caught within the forsythias’ whip-wand embrace. Bending forward, doubled over at the waist. Shaking head and hair — gently. The toads tumble earthward, dozens of small dull brown toads shaken gratefully free of entangling hair. Watching them hop and scatter in all directions.

Laughing.

Laughing.

 

— C. Birde, 10/18

 

Falling Above — A Poem

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“Above” — C.Birde, 5/18

 

Overhead,

above –

an earthward

tumble

of song and

smoke,

d

o

w

n

through budding

trees.

Two small birds,

a palm’s worth

each…

Beating wings.

Knitted,

knotted feet.

Rivals –

singing,

calling,

 falling

d

o

w

n.

For one fleet

moment,

I might

be crowned,

adorned in

feathered,

kinetic

strife.

 

— C.Birde, 5/18

 

Forest in Hand — A Poem

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“Forest” — C.Birde, 4/18

 

Back bowed

to warming sun;

knees pressed

to earth –

withdraw each

tender seedling

from crisp,

sweet

leaf litter;

tug at that

connection,

at each pale,

elongated

stem and root

until –

unwilling –

the fibers

release.

Each pliant,

wrinkled leaf

a world

of innate

potential.

One hundred.

Two hundred.

Three…

To right,

moving headfirst

down the

parent tree,

Nuthatch watches,

mutters,

while Chickadee,

to left,

muses over

nest sites.

Rise,

forest in hand.

Determined

proliferation

of life

gathered,

in a small,

bouquet

of youngling

green.

 

 

— C.Birde, 4/18