.
.
Skirt of many long colors
sewn in gathers
and tears
.
brushing my ankles
with playful seams
cutting through the design
.
of mismatched patterns
wearing thin
after all these years
.
washing on delicate
hanging to dry
one more time.
.
© 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
.
Posted in Poetry 2010 - present | Tagged memories, Poetry, colors, poem, endurance, age, playfulness, skirt, designs, continuity, hippy skirt, ode | 7 Comments »
.
.
Moon like an opal
hanging from a coral thread
veiled by fairy clouds.
.
(c) 2013, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
.
(re-post, revised; photo from 2013)
.
Posted in Haiku and Senryu, Poetry 2010 - present | Tagged fairies, moon, nature, opal, poem, Poetry, senryu, sunset | 19 Comments »
.
Is grief a particle
or a wave
that washes over
.
the speed of light
bending space around
our massive loss?
.
Or is it just
the parenthetic spark
in an equation
.
the final proof
that love
connects us all?
.
© 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
.
Posted in Poetry 2010 - present | Tagged affinity, connection, death, grief, life, light, Love, poem, Poetry, spirituality, Unity | 13 Comments »
.
We are tuna fish
breathing the sea,
oblivious to mayo and toast.
.
We are cocoa
in the hot southern bean,
our proof is not yet in the pudding.
.
We are tomato
bulging acid in red sun,
unsuspecting the BLT.
.
We are lettuce leaf
photosynthesized,
ignorant of a thousand islands.
.
We are potato,
white jewel buried in soil
unconscious of sour cream and chives.
.
We are yeast,
multiplying dark spaces
waiting to be kneaded.
.
(c) 1996, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
.
(a re-post)
Posted in Poetry 1990's | Tagged compassion, connection, diet, food, life, mindfulness, nature, poem, Poetry, source | 21 Comments »
.
She searches for a pulse
her fingers kneading earth
beneath rocks and stones
to reach the heart of Gaia.
There she rides the quake
of nature’s first womb
lifting her face
to catch the genesis
of sun and rain
wind
and moon
till seedlings birth
their promises.
Labor replete
she bows her head
and the gods kiss the dirt
beneath her nails.
.
(c) 1992, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
.
(a re-post)
.
Photo originally used with permission of Jason in 2012 at http://loveuniversallove.wordpress.com/
Posted in Poetry 1990's | Tagged birth, Earth, Gaia, gardener, Gardening, growth, labor of love, midwife, nature, poem, Poetry, seedlings | 12 Comments »
.
They say it’s coming
strong winds
unusual for June.
Large trees bursting
with foliage
are at risk.
.
They say his heart
was enlarged
(with generosity)
at risk
for a death
out of season.
.
Tomorrow when the storm hits
I will go outside
and stand among the trees.
.
© 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
.
Posted in Poetry 2010 - present | Tagged comfort, death, grief, heart, June, Love, poem, Poetry, storm, Trees, wind | 29 Comments »
.
Oh garden bird
you kept a wild heart
between your ribs
as you danced
the morning zephyr
darting circles
through the phlox.
Your last song
sang of forgiveness
to the cat
before you died.
Let me hold
your empty body
till I feel again
the pulse
of swaying hills
and flying trees,
till my own wings spread
new feathers
and we both reclaim the sky.
.
(c) 1995, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
.
(a re-post)
.
.
Posted in Poetry 1990's | Tagged birds, death, forgiveness, life, nature, poem, Poetry, rebirth, Sparrow, spirituality, wings | 19 Comments »
