“Snow, Worm’s Eye View” — C.Birde, 3/17
Mother Nature’s
blanket reminder
that even we
must rest —
Snow.
— C.Birde, 3/17
Snow — An Image
weather
March — A Poem
“Maple Snow” — C.Birde, 2017
March –
Mars,
Martius –
Caught betwixt
winter and spring,
hurling crocuses one day,
storm-born snow the next.
A month at odds
with itself,
conquest and
new growth
folded into
its very
name.
— C.Birde, 3/17
“Crocus” — C.Birde, 2016
Yesterday — A Poem
“Oak & Snow” — C.Birde, 1/17
Yesterday,
it snowed —
one inch,
two,
of thick white
flakes
so softly laid.
Yet today,
the blades
of fallow grass
thrust
through.
— C.Birde, 2/17
“Fallow” — C.Birde, 1/17
Ice Rings — An Image
“Reservoir, Mid-Winter Thaw” — C.Birde, 1/17
Warming air
dimples
the reservoir’s skin
in circles
indecipherable —
countless milky rings
scattered
over
ice.
— C.Birde, 1/17
Autumn Rain — An Image
“Leaves & Rain” — C.Birde, 10/16
Autumn rain —
a deep breath
after hectic Summer;
a vivid
and saturated
respite.
— C.Birde, 10/16
Heat — A Poem
“Sequined” — C.Birde, 8/16
I wear the heat like fatigue —
a pearled and sequined sheath
that restricts breath and movement,
quells thought,
and drains
creative impulse
steadily
away.
— C.Birde, 8/16
Summer’s Night — A Poem
“Summer Night” — C.Birde, 7/16
Long has Orion
slipped below the horizon.
The dog stars run loose
over the vast dark sky.
Crickets strum
barbed legs in song.
And I lie awake,
considering
the heat-washed nights
of Summer.
— C.Birde, 7/16
Morning Heat — Images
“Reservoir Haze” — C.Birde, 7/16
Haze thickened air
stretches over morning’s tender hours,
accompanied by the ratchet and whir
of cicada chorus —
promises of heat to come.
— C.Birde, 7/16
“Reservoir Bridge” — C.Birde, 7/16
Aeolian Harvest — A Poem
“Broken Maple” — C.Birde, 4/16
An unkindness of wind —
no gentle breeze,
nor exiting lamb,
but a sundering;
A dispassionate tearing
that strips bud and blossom
and exposes the maple’s
soft and aging heart.
I cannot sleep
for the arboreal cries it exacts,
for its moan among
the pine’s fringed and lashing limbs,
for its persistence upon
the window’s too-thin panes.
It wants entry.
It has torn through
one-hundred years of wood
and would add a bone —
or several dozen —
to its discards.
–C.Birde, 4/16
“Lost Limb” — C.Birde, 4/16
Earth Exhales — An Image
“Fog Over Snow” — C.Birde, 2/16
Earth exhaled a drift of fog over compressed snow…today, Winter has returned.
Nightjars & Damselflies 