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Posts Tagged ‘Bird’

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bird2

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We found a little box

with a speckled bird inside

and fed it bits of food

and water from a dropper,

until the day he asked

for a bigger place.

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And so we placed him lovingly

inside a gilded cage

with trays of seeds

and a wooden perch

where he could hop about.

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“This is fine for now,” he said,

“but tomorrow

I want something bigger.”

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We quickly built an aviary

with maple trees

and blueberry shrubs

where he could flutter

through the leaves.

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“This is nice for now,” he said.

But after several days he asked

to wing about the house,

and finally out the window.

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We watched him fly

through forests and valleys,

and finally up into the sky

between the stars, and out

beyond the Milky Way.

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A year went by

and one day he returned,

asking for his little box.

He snuggled down to rest, and said,

“This will do just fine –

for I can see forever

from here now.”

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© 2018  Betty Hayes Albright

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Poem is from a dream I had last April. 

The image is a partial of a print my late parents had – artist unknown. (Update – the artist is Jill Fogelsong.)  The sun just happened to be shining through the window in a certain way, giving it a rainbow effect — which caught my eye. I wasn’t planning to post an image with this poem, but it presented itself just in time. Funny how things work out….

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Let’s go

his body cries

as he clings to the edge

of everything he knows

pulling and stretching

the nuances of air

between each feather

posturing the sun

on his back.

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Then it comes for him,

the breath of Gaia

rushing in

rushing out

teasing his wild

hungry wings

till he captures her

exhaling

and lets go.

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©  2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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our.

It’s one more slippery

snow-white day

when every bird

has stolen away

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except for one

in the old elm tree

who watches my window.

But does he see me,

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or just the reflection

of love left behind?

I blow him a kiss

through the half-opened blind.

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And as each new season

transfigures our view

perhaps he won’t mind

that I’m watching him too.

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© 2017  Betty Hayes Albright 

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Without Roots

(re-post from 2 years ago)

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South winds

(c) B. Albright 2011

push the great fir

to mortal degree,

its many arms thrashing

in dark circles,

its body twisted in deep groan.

And I would be that bird

 perched white at the top –

 I’d play the storm

 swaying in brave arcs

 without roots.

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(c) 1995, 2013  Betty Hayes Albright

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.    .    .    (old one from 1976)

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I thought it safe inside my cage,

but could I learn to fly?

Such warmth between those steel walls,

but would my spirit die?

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So when I found the gate was raised

a trifle bit too high

I closed my eyes and held my breath

and jumped into the sky.

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In fear I fell, a feathered stone,

my throat choked out a cry,

Is this the end? Was I a fool

to kiss my cage goodbye?

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All I did was flounder more

as night was drawing nigh.

It seemed the worst was happening

and none could tell me why.

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Then something warm stirred at my sides,

my wings were going to try!

The dawn broke only just in time

to blow my feathers dry.

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At last I could fly sure and straight

with clarity of eye.

Free and strong, I knew now

that my cage had been a lie.

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©  1976, 2012  Betty Hayes Albright 

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Without Roots

(Re-posting from August – revised)

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South winds

(c) B. Albright 2011

push the great fir

to mortal degree,

its many arms thrashing

in dark circles,

its body twisted in deep groan.

And I would be that bird

 perched white at the top;

 I’d play the storm

 swaying in brave arcs

 without roots.

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(c) 1995, 2012  Betty Hayes Albright

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