Blueberry Moon — A Poem

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“Blueberry Moon” — C.Birde, 8/17

 

Crickets sing

a tidal song —

legion notes united,

lapping one

against another.

Too close,

too rapid to measure

the hairsbreadth space

between,

to take the night’s

aural temperature.

But it is cool for August.

Pull the blankets up.

Listen –

The crickets’ evensong

washes

against thin-paned glass,

and bears

the swollen Moon

through

Her arching

transit.

 

— C.Birde, 8/17

 

Mirages — A Poem

 

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“Expectation” — C.Birde, 8/2/17

 

Shrill summer —

heady spell of drama,

pushed and pulled

to extremes.

A full-throated

shout

of heat and light and

expectation,

swollen

beyond tolerance.

Cicadas rehearse

their one-note

chorus,

and sparrows leave

shallow depressions

beneath the hedge

to mark

their baths of dust.

Disconnected,

we hide and bemoan

the heat,

impoverished time,

our stillborn

dreams.

 

— C.Birde, 8/2/17

 

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“Dust Bath” — C.Birde, 8/2/17