Interlude — A Truth


“Interlude” — C.Birde, 6/17

Hello! I will be taking a short break from my blog and will return in about two weeks.  I will continue matching words to images during my absence, and I invite you to look for me at Carrie Birde on Instagram if you should wish. Keep dreaming, and keep creating 🙂

— C.Birde


Equivalencies — A Poem

fauna mammal rodent eastern_chipmunk summer nature beauty

“Eastern Chipmunk” — C.Birde, 6/17


If you have one chipmunk,

you have three;

If you have three chipmunks,

you have fifteen;

If you have fifteen,

they will call the day’s news,

in rapid fire staccato,

from the garden bench;

and beneath the old miniature rose;

and from the corner behind the garage

by the rain barrels.

Most likely,

they will excavate

a complex system of tunnels

beneath the side steps

to the converted back porch,

and divert

the flow of fallen rain that

— recently, mysteriously —

began weeping through

the house’s north facing


basement wall.

They will expect peanuts,

and will make their requests

from under the lavender hedge;

and beneath the curled, green ferns;

and from all corners

of the house and yard and garden.

Keep a number of nuts tucked

in your pockets at all times,

though this will not prevent them

from heedlessly running

over your bare feet and toes

when you open the door

and stand on the side steps

with that offering.

If you see one chipmunk,

you may see three;

If you see three chipmunks,

you may well see fifteen;

And if you see fifteen,

you had best have your

inter-species agreements

quickly drawn up and notarized,

for the benefit of all,

by a neutral third party.

(The Nuthatch, perhaps.)

— C.Birde, 7/17

Green Tonic — A Poem

Fern Wood, Tourne.jpg

“Fern Wood, Tourne” — C.Birde, 6/17


The crush and shout

of the larger world


beyond these fringed,

green borders

where, time and again,

I return

to drink

the Wood Thrush’s tonic

of sung sunlight,

to feel

the fern’s frill-lipped

cool breath against

my calves,

to absorb the drum and patter

of rain upon

the woods’ sheltering

green canopy.

I come to cleanse myself –

of grief and pain and worry;

to drench myself

in green.


— C. Birde, 6/28/17


Wooded Path.jpg

“Wooded Path, Tourne” — C.Birde, 6/17