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Ben Naga takes us to another realm in this beautiful Shadorma.

Ben Naga

THE RAINBOW TRAIL

The pilgrim
Walks an ancient way
From the root
To the roof
The stars above are within
The journey a breeze

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Feral

.

She puts food

outside her door

for the cats

and raccoons

and the Scrub Jays –

.

and for all

who leave soft

wild footprints

in the frost.

.

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(c) 2019  Betty Hayes Albright

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Steam

.

We fan the embers

turning to flamingo flames

parsing the silence

.

like a blue-white star –

fire so hot there is no smoke,

just the melt of time.

.

Vermilion night,

soft sizzle of sparks afire –

it begins to rain.

.

.

©  2019  Betty Hayes Albright

.

Kite

.

Let go of my string,

the fog is a-scatter,

.

I’ll keep to the wind

flying high o’er the surf

.

as it pounds out its reason

on shale and stone.

.

The full moon’s aweigh

and Neptune’s at play –

.

let go of my string, and

it’s up and away.

.

.

© 2019  Betty Hayes Albright

.

.

Many years ago

and still

you’re with me

in the silent deep

.

where time spins faster

before our eyes –

.

it won’t be long

until that blur

is just a knowing smile.

.

.

©  2019  Betty Hayes Albright 

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Generosity

.

jif 009

.

Squirrel finds apple,

spins it like corn on the cob —

leaves the core for me.

.

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(c) 2012, 2019  Betty Hayes Albright

.

(re-post from 2012, revised)

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Photo from Bing – creative commons site, “unknown author”.

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Future Tense

.

Where’s your dance, old tree?

The wind plays –

let’s see you sway,

I long to hear

your rustling green.

.

Did Autumn tighten up

your knots

and sap your limbs

too soon?

.

It seems that Pan

has left you,

tail tucked between his legs

when he saw the horizon

turning black

instead of blue.

.

And now I too must hurry off

to find my cave and pray

that dawn

will wring out the mourning

and wash the ash away.

.

.

(c) 1980, 2019  Betty Hayes Albright

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This is an old one, revised. It was originally written in 1980, two months before Mount St. Helens erupted a hundred miles away from us. (A dear friend of mine died in the eruption, along with her husband and two children.)  I always assumed the poem was a premonition of that tragic event, but it seems to also fit in with current events on this dear old planet of ours.  (The original version was posted here in 2014.)

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P.S. Once again I’m behind reading blogs. Will hopefully catch up with you all soon!

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