Green Tonic — A Poem

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“Fern Wood, Tourne” — C.Birde, 6/17

 

The crush and shout

of the larger world

persists

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

 

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“Wooded Path, Tourne” — C.Birde, 6/17

Sun Day — A Poem

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“Solstice” — C.Birde, 6/17

 

Seconds,

Minutes,

Hours –

The slow and certain accumulation

of six-months’ time

tilts the scales

in daylight’s favor.

Solstice of Summer.

Exultant and unaware,

we blissfully tread

the insubstantial

garment of our shadows,

as the Hours

Minutes,

Seconds

steadily

reverse

their

course.

 

— C.Birde, 6/17

 

Seasonal Truths — A Poem

 

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“Reaching” — C.Birde, 6/17

 

She flits

among the underbrush,

shadow clad in shadow.

He sings

in liquid, honeysuckled

light and borrowed notes,

songs un-repetitive,

unrepeatable.

A stroke of shadow,

she huddles

atop a nest of sticks and

grass and ribbons built,

like his song,

in careful,

r a n d o m

fashion.

Chasing

blue jay,

grackle,

awkward young starling,

he repels

any who come too near.

My name,

tucked beneath

their wings,

in their

throats and call —

I answer.

 

— C.Birde, 6/17

 

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“O.C.” — C.Birde, 6/17