Double Star

(A Maeberie poem)

.

Usually in the hills

she found her peace

but now the crows

were clamoring

above her head,

Let go!  they cawed,

Move on, move on!

 .

She raised her hand

for them to stop

and weary, slid

her body down

beneath a tree

and fell into a reverie

of grassy meadow,

sapphire sky

beyond corporeality

and there

she found him waiting.

.

He laid his sword

upon the ground,

the battle won,

no more to hide.

Their hearts grew full

of silver light

two scintillating souls entwined

in mutual fascination.

 .

When she awoke

day had turned

to shadowed night,

the crows had flown

and all was quiet

on the path

that took her home

while high above, unnoticed

twirled a dancing double star.

.

.

© 2012, 2018  Betty Hayes Albright

.

(a re-post from 2012, revised)

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Under the Umbrella

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She takes in the street,

its rain-polished gleam

of high wet shadows,

of tall crows in bare trees.

Cupping her hands

she gathers a reflection

draws it to her lips

and drinks.

.

.

(c) 1992, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright

.

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The Longing Path

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In spring she waits

for tethered clouds

to fly apart

so she can ride

the northbound sun

as it barrels through the trees.

She wonders if his sky is blue,

and if the shore

where they embraced

is held together still

with sandy logs

and braids of kelp.

.

But today she takes the longing path

that weaves close to the river

with its folded banks

and tangled roots.

Waddled crows

once hopped the rocks

to warn them of intruders.

She wonders if he sees it still,

the vernal sun

that laced their days,

and if their memories are safe –

and do they intertwine?

.

©  2012, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

.

(A Mayberrie poem – re-post, revised)

.

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Visitors

.

.

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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Detail

Police pound on his son’s door.

They look through windows

shouting his name

again and again.

Outside the father paces

back and forth, back and forth

the lines in his face

drawn with gravity,

his lips pulled tight.

Two silent crows

land on a nearby rooftop

then fly off to the trees.

He watches absently

like we do

when something normal happens

in the middle of awful.

Later, long after

they’ve broken down the door

and found his son alive

and the ambulance comes –

long, long after

his son has recovered

and all is well again –

years later in fact,

the father will look back

on those moments of anguish

and remember the crows.

.

© 2013, 2014  Betty Hayes Albright

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Autumn Haiku (# 43 and 44)

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Migrating robin

searches ground for easy worm

one eye on the sky.

~

.Fog muffles through trees

hangs like gauze in bare branches

blackbird disappears.

.

(c) 2013  Betty Hayes Albright

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Haiku #39 – Nightfall

Crinkled pink edges

feather the hills at sundown –

Crows gather in trees.

.

(c) 2013  Betty Hayes Albright

.

(Just a sleepy little scribble…. Still waiting for a crack in this writer’s block.)

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The Longing Path – 2012 posting

..

(A Mayberrie poem)

.

In spring she waits

for tethered clouds

to fly apart

so she can ride

the northbound sun

as it barrels through the trees.

She wonders if his sky is clear

and if the shore

where they embraced

is held together still

with sandy logs

and braids of kelp.

.

Today she takes the longing path

that weaves close to the river

with its folded banks

and tangled roots,

where waddled crows

would hop the rocks

and warn them of intruders.

She wonders if he sees it still,

the vernal sun

that laced their days,

and if their memories are safe –

and do they intertwine?

.

©  2012, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

.

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Double Star – 2012 posting

(Maeberie series)

.

Usually in the hills

she found her peace

but now the crows

were clamoring

above her head,

Let go!  they squawked,

Move on, move on!

 .

She raised her hand

for them to stop

and sat beneath

an old elm tree

where she fell into a reverie

of magic meadow,

sapphire sky

beyond corporeality

and there

she found him waiting.

 .

He laid his sword

upon the ground,

the battle won,

no more to hide.

Their hearts filled

with silver light

entwined in fascination.

 .

When she awoke

the day had circled

into night.

The crows had flown

and all was quiet

on the path

that took her home

while high above, unnoticed

twirled a dancing double star.

.

.

© 2012, 2018  Betty Hayes Albright

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Under the Umbrella – 2011 posting

.

She becomes the street,

the rain-polished gleam

of high wet shadows,

of tall crows in bare trees.

Cupping her hands

she gathers up the storm

and drinks.

.

.

(c) 1992, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright

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