I wonder, elfin tree,

does your sap long to rise?

Do your cells expand

although your limbs

are harshly thwarted

every time they try to spread?

When your roots

run into walls

do they cry

at their containment?

Does it jar you

every time

you feel the cut?

And if someday I plant you

in the garden, in the sun

will you remember

to remember

how to grow?


(c) 2002, 2016  Betty Hayes Albright


(from 1993)


When morning woke in silence

and you heard naught but a prayer,

when the earth was scented misty

came a tightness in the air.

And soon the winds were hammering

from sea and onto land

giving chase to charcoal rain

and knocking down what couldn’t stand

the battering and the beating

and the gusting of the gale

as steeples fell, and great old trees

splintered in its trail.

By evening the tempest waned…

the storm released the air…

and as darkness draped the silence

you could hear naught but a prayer.


(c) 1993, 2016 Betty Hayes Albright


(We’re in the midst of very stormy, roaring weather in the Pacific NW – hoping to get this posted before the power goes out.)



He cuts away gold-threaded robes,

rips the collar from his voice,

kicks away the leaded boots

and finds that he can dance

beyond the trappings

of the mortar

and the folly of prestige.


And as he breaks the bindings

that had camouflaged his heart

he finally sees

the great divine

shining from the mirror

and meets himself.


(c) 1996, 2016  Betty Hayes Albright



Old castle rests on brambled shores

near curling leaves and browning lawn

as ivy coils through empty doors

where once his golden sword was drawn.


For long ago the tower stood

shaped by wind and gleaming stones

and from the chapel in the wood

they heard the bell and felt the groans


of lovers locked in false embrace

of thunder scavenged from the deep

where only he could show his face –

his mistress turned away to weep.


They could not march beyond the hill

for fate had measured out their time

and all they touched was cold and still

and none could prove there’d been a crime.


A dozen years but none to save

for lovers no more ring the bell.

Calla lilies crown the graves

where once an army rose and fell.


And now the castle sleeps on shores

near curling leaves and browning lawn

as ivy coils across the floors

where once Excalibur was drawn.


©  1993,  2016   Betty Hayes Albright


(re-post of a Mayberrie poem)


Time Zones


On another planet

orbiting a different star

in a distant galaxy

on the edges of the universe

I wonder

what time it is.


(c) 2011, 2016  Betty Hayes Albright


(from 1982)


He removes his cape

and tall silk hat.

With the touch

of his wand

she turns

into a white dove,



It’s easier to leave now,

after the encore.

Goodbyes aren’t real

but magic is.


(c) 1982, 2016  Betty Hayes Albright





Sleep interrupted –

someone’s knocking on the roof.

Crow comes for breakfast.





Peace interrupted –

someone’s knocking on the door.

Flicker comes for lunch.



© 2016 Betty Hayes Albright



(Photos were taken in July.

They’re a bit fuzzy because they were taken through a window.

At least that’s my excuse this time.🙂 )



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