Posts Tagged ‘change’


He says she’s over the hill,

that she’s dancing

with entropy

toward the valley below


but she hears the call

of flickers, and the chitter

of squirrels,

and she sees ahead


lush meadows, tall trees,

and moss-covered stones

on the path

by a sapphire river.


There, she’ll follow the scent

of her own deep roots

to a range of mountains,

their tops hidden


in the subtleties he missed

between the lines

on her face

when e’er she smiled.



(c)  2018  Betty Hayes Albright



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Oh love, can you see us all

pulsing in red,

eyes opened wide

to reason and truth?


Oh love, can you see us all

reflecting orange,

imagining change

and eager to grow?


Oh love, can you see us all

lit up in yellow,

resolving to purify

air, land, and sea?


Oh love, can you see us all

shimmering in green,

rejecting the lies, and

defending the light?


Oh love, can you see us all

bathed in blue

with visions of healing,

and freedom from fear?


Oh love, can you see us all

radiating indigo,

hands joined together

in what we must do?


Oh love – may you see us all

aglow in violet –

creating the crest

of a new Humanity.



(c) 2001, 2018  Betty Hayes Albright


In two weeks, we in the U.S. have an important election which could change the course of history.  Please vote – and let your voice be heard.


Photo (C) Copyright Betty Albright 2018.

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This world has changed

since you and I

allowed the years

to wrinkle by


without a pause

we didn’t notice

the quiet closing

of the lotus.


Now we fail

to recognize

the crinkles ‘round

each other’s eyes


when one says no,

the other yes —

a corner turned

yet I confess


that deep inside

I’ll ne’er forget

your Romeo

to my Juliet.



©  2018  Betty Hayes Albright


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(Remembering the summer of ’67)


It was a blue-sky summer

of beach love freedom

and baby-oil tans

but most of all

a hunger

for the daring wild truth.

We danced far away

from dead philosophers

returning to their coffins

and the icy leanings

of cynical professors.

And so it was

that long, fiery season

when heat ignited bodies

and the sun

kindled our souls

that Nietzsche’s god

rolled over

in his grave.



(c) 2013, 2018 Betty Hayes Albright


(a re-post from 2013, revised)






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March 15, 2009 morning 004


Spring and winter spar

rain mixes with something white

snow teases the vine.



©  2012, 2018  Betty Hayes Albright


(re-posted from 2012)


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The gray haired lady

next door

thought I didn’t see her

ducking behind a curtain

watching me

on my knees

weeding the rose garden

four months pregnant

long hair like Cher’s

with the bangs

husband on the porch

playing “Guess Who

on our new 8-track


if it was too loud.




I duck behind the curtain

convinced they can’t see me

watching them

as she sweeps the porch

pregnant belly half bare

short hair in spikes,

her boyfriend’s Harley

revving up

tattoos shining

heavy bass beating

from a window.

I hope they don’t see me

but yes

it’s just too loud.



© 2018  Betty Hayes Albright


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It changes fast

that marbled sky

from sheets of paste

to curds of gray

and thin blue belts

with heads of steel


by chain lightning.


Clouds turn glassy

shadows break

we hasten through

the cracking storm

but pause to lift

our empty cups

to catch the rain

and raise a toast


to the wild wind’s


of the fall.



© 1993, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright


(re-post, revised)


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