Posts Tagged ‘Earth Day’


Baby spider, no bigger

than a pinhead

snuggles next to the sink

for three days,

sustained by dust motes

and a sip of water

from a speck of mist


until this morning

when she fluffs him

into a tissue

and he rides willingly

through the house

and out the back door

to the garden, and then


as if knowing,

he drops down

into the leaves

of the orange Calendulas

which have just begun

to bloom.



(c) 2019  Betty Hayes Albright



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Hello, my friends,

is anyone there?

I need someone

to come repair

my shattered biosphere.

The ocean’s clogged

with plastic sludge,

the beach is cut

with broken glass,

my raging fever

melts the ice

and all the while

my insides churn

as ancient trees

are turned to tables,

wild creatures

robbed of fur

their heads mounted

on walls.

I sob aloud

and strain to breathe

the muddy air

my tears are lava

running through your villages

I’ve lost my balance

can’t control

the atmosphere

it spins and bawls

across the plains

I quake apart

your buildings fall

the dust roars through

our sacred land

my voice grows hoarse

but still I call out

desperately –

Can you hear me now?



© 2013, 2018  Betty Hayes Albright


(Re-posted from 2013)

Image from “Bing” free art.

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Green limbs spread like wings

raising up the eyes of earth

till we learn to fly.


(c) 2016  Betty Hayes Albright



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(c) 2008 B. Albright

(c) 2008 B. Albright


Why just once a year?

Gaia hears our lullaby,

sends a wake-up call.


Why just once a year?

Gaia takes a labored breath,

births another day.


Why just once a year?

Gaia sighs and holds herself,

loves us anyway.


(c) 2014, 2015  Betty Hayes Albright


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(For Earth Day – a re-post)


“Where is the light?”

their voices screamed

into the night,

“where has our power gone?”


“It’s not the candle,

but the flame

that matters,”

came the swift reply

in answer to their woe.


“Change must be the vessel

that carries Gaia

through the storm.

It was your dragging apathy

that drove her off

into the mist

where only those

with unveiled eyes

can still make out her form –

where only those

with opened ears

can still discern her voice:


“I am still here,” she tells us,

“so humankind 

will learn to breathe

new life into the dust,

and earth shall rise

in startling vitality.

I am still here, beloved ones,

but now it’s up to you.”


(c) 2000, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright


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