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Posts Tagged ‘beach’

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Sunset gave itself

to a seashell on the beach

that’s where she found it.

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(c) 2018  Betty Hayes Albright

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(This shell was found in 1982, on the beach in Edmonds, Washington. In all my years of beach-combing, I never found another one like it.)

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1957

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When I was ten

all the rides

at Disneyland

could not compare

with that first sight,

that maiden rush

across the sand,

my first kiss

of the sea.

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©  2012, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post from 2012)

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Rocks balanced with care

always aiming for the sky

never mind the tide.

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© 2017  Betty Hayes Albright 

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(Came upon this unfinished cairn on the beach one day….)

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When his ship sails

past the edges

of the sea

she waits, a beacon

in one hand

while with the other

she lovingly rearranges

every little pebble

on the beach.

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(c) 2014  Betty Hayes Albright

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(photo from 2008)

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She finds the old footprints,

follows them past mothers

with splashing children,

past men and dogs

chasing sticks in waves,

past the log

where he changed the lens

in his camera.

She follows them

to virgin beach

where shells aren’t broken

and shadows sleep wet

under rocks.

And there she sinks

into warm sand

and counts lost ships

Edmonds, Washington

circling in the strait.

Where has my Captain gone,

she wonders,

Where’s my compass now?

The Amtrak knows.

It rumbles south

with a woulda-coulda-shoulda

echoing down the track.

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(c) 1995, 2014 Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post)

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And so I have gone down

to the salty, briny air

where the surf tumbles the sand

and the wind combs through my hair,

where the seagulls dip and squabble

and the pocket pools grow warm

and the starfish nuzzle rocks

as the tide begins to turn,

where the sun lights through each wave

as it surrenders to the sea

and the sky steams into purple

and the night spits stars to me.

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(c) 1992, 2014 Betty Hayes Albright

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To the Sea

(Re-post from last August – formerly titled “Ilwaco, Washington”)

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And so I have gone down

to the salty, briny air

where the surf tumbles the sand

and the wind combs through my hair,

where the seagulls dip and squabble

and the pocket pools grow warm

and the starfish nuzzle rocks

as the tide begins to turn,

where the sun lights through each wave

as it surrenders to the sea

and the sky steams into purple

and the night spits stars to me.

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(c) 1992, 2012 Betty Hayes Albright

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Seaweed breezes

lose themselves

in her long hair.

She dances over sharp rocks

to the beach,

twirls and spins

in pirouettes,

her long skirt swirling circles

in the sand.

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© 1995, 2012 Betty Hayes Albright 

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.    .    .    .    (Puget Sound)

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And it rolls out another for you –

one slow buckling wave

serves up cold soupy sea

bearing armor of chiton

and mussel shell blue,

with twists of driftwood

and layers of foam,

crab legs and agates

in dustings of gold.

Now toppling, it rattles

kaleidoscope rocks,

then undulates kelp

in sea-weeding sway

and as barnacles open

to taste the high tide

it rolls out another for you.

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©  1993  Betty Hayes Albright

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She finds the old footprints,

follows them past mothers

with splashing children,

past men and dogs

chasing sticks in waves,

past the log

where he changed the lens

in his camera.

She follows them

to virgin beach

where shells aren’t broken

and shadows sleep wet

under rocks.

And there she sinks

into warm sand

and counts lost ships

Edmonds, Washington

circling in the strait.

Where has my Captain gone,

she wonders,

Where’s my compass now?

The Amtrak knows.

It rumbles south

with a woulda-coulda-shoulda

echoing down the track.

.

(c) 1995, 2014 Betty Hayes Albright

Read Full Post »

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