Seasonings

Down Moon River on a Cement Slab

Betty Hayes Albright — Sat, 18 May 2013 02:55:58 +0000

This is a re-post, in memory of the eruption of Mt. St. Helens and the loss of a dear friend.

“Down Moon River on a Cement Slab” *

To Barbara Pierce Morris Seibold (1947 – 1980)

(Originally written for Barb on her 33rd birthday. Just 2 months later she died in the eruption of Mt. St. Helens on May 18, 1980, along with her husband and two children. She always made me laugh, always found humor in any situation. The last verse was added after she died.)

We had a frog called Inky-Dink

until the pond went dry

and it was time

to go to school.

We threw our homework

in the mud

and laughed

at Mrs. Eagle-Eye.

I slammed your finger

in the locker door,

your nail turned

black and blue.

You laughed

and drained it with a pin

that had a different

point of view.

Then walking home

we yelled at muddy trucks

that splashed our knees

with scum,

and laughing, kicked

fresh Girl Scout cookies

down the street

to spite the crumbs.

On Saturdays

we shopped downtown,

they couldn’t keep us

on the ground.

I lost you

on the 13th floor

but always heard you laughing

through the elevator door.

Dick’s fries were still 11 cents

we ate them

in your green corvair

and laughed and sang

to KJR

then chased some boys

but not too far.

Once on a dare

we broke into

the secret tunnel

beneath the school.

Our stockings snagged

on gurgling pipes

we swore the air grew hotter

but all the time

we laughed our alma mater.

After senior finals

you threw your gym shoes

from the car.

They landed on a frowning cop

who didn’t want to celebrate.

You laughed

at the $30 fine

and went to graduate.

One day we met

with shining rings

and home grown bellies

laughing at the years gone by.

We drove to show

a favorite teacher

how we’d learned to multiply.

added a few months after Barb died:

No roadblocks ever

held you back

how could you know St. Helen’s

would have heartburn on that day?

She belched,

I felt the earth shake

when you died

and all was ash.

But somehow from deep inside

I know you’ll have the final laugh.

* Title comes from the time a DJ on the radio said, “And now we’re gonna float down Moon River on a cement slab” as he spun that popular song. We laughed till we cried. (Guess you woulda had to be there. )

Haiku #26

Betty Hayes Albright — Tue, 07 May 2013 22:40:55 +0000

Melt into its bark -

each loved tree will fold you in,

lift you to the sky.

Thanks to everyone who reads my blog, and for your kind comments.

I’ll continue to be scarce for a little while as we are selling our house, packing, cleaning, lamenting…. Hoping to take my elm trees with me.

Will still try to post and read blogs now and then – looking forward to the day when things get back to “normal”!

April Hours

Betty Hayes Albright — Tue, 23 Apr 2013 22:39:38 +0000

(from 1996)

Will April ever be

just another month?

Can she find her way again

through new leaves, petals,

dandelion seeds

as they blow softly

across her path?

Will she ever again fit

through the squeezing and pressing

of time

without tripping on the hands

of the clock?

And most of all

does he still hear

the clamorous ticking

of an unwound dream?

Haiku #25 – Hatchling

Betty Hayes Albright — Sat, 20 Apr 2013 17:48:34 +0000

Like a shy, white bird

sweet trillium blooms quietly

nestled in the brush.

Haiku #24

Betty Hayes Albright — Sat, 20 Apr 2013 03:44:45 +0000

There is that moment,

an imperceptible pause

just before we leap.

Softly

Betty Hayes Albright — Tue, 09 Apr 2013 00:48:35 +0000

She penned some words

on ivory parchment,

felt his eyes

on every page

waiting for the plot

to quicken,

searching

for an opening.

But she could only

hide him softly

veiled by a metaphor

in the chapter never finished

of a story incomplete.

Haiku #23 – Moonlit Night

Betty Hayes Albright — Sun, 07 Apr 2013 03:06:10 +0000

Waves break in silver

like rushes of mercury

glinting on the shore.

Haiku #22 – Robin Redbreast

Betty Hayes Albright — Tue, 02 Apr 2013 21:56:10 +0000

Robin Redbreast

There it is again:

handsome rival in the glass -

he stops to reflect.

Volcano

Betty Hayes Albright — Mon, 01 Apr 2013 23:56:05 +0000

Sometimes a mountain

shakes loose

its deeply rooted trees,

old riverbeds,

the tramping of calloused feet.

It spews out fire and ash,

declares itself free

of expectation.

There is blood-letting

as lava streams down

into the lakes

cooking fish and lilies,

boiling off complacency.

It is the wish

of Gaia.

Be careful

when you try

to move a mountain -

but never stop climbing.

Haiku #21

Betty Hayes Albright — Tue, 26 Mar 2013 23:36:04 +0000

Night embroidery

stars are strewn like white french-knots

on a black silk sky.