Posts Tagged ‘flight’



Let go of my string,

the fog is a-scatter,


I’ll keep to the wind

flying high o’er the surf


as it pounds out its reason

on shale and stone.


The full moon’s aweigh

and Neptune’s at play –


let go of my string, and

it’s up and away.



© 2019  Betty Hayes Albright



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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.


And so we placed him lovingly

inside a gilded cage

with trays of seeds

and a wooden perch

where he could hop about.


“This is fine for now,” he said,

“but tomorrow

I want something bigger.”


We quickly built an aviary

with maple trees

and blueberry shrubs

where he could flutter

through the leaves.


“This is nice for now,” he said.

But after several days he asked

to wing about the house,

and finally out the window.


We watched him fly

through forests and valleys,

and finally up into the sky

between the stars, and out

beyond the Milky Way.


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.”



© 2018  Betty Hayes Albright


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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I’d fly on white wings,

one of joy

one of sorrow


on crosswinds


and below

to mate

in mid-flight

with a prayer.



(c) 1990, 2018 Betty Hayes Albright


(A re-post from 2011)


My thoughts and condolences are with Santa Fe, Texas today, and with all those affected by this most recent school shooting. When will it stop?

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(A Mayberrie poem – prelude to the conclusion of the series.)

It’s been 6 months since the previous two poems were posted, so to refresh: the king was leaving a bloody battle to return to Mayberrie, hoping to reunite with his beloved. And “she”, from the opposite direction, had also made up her mind to make the journey to Mayberrie to search for him.)


Through the Door


The journey through the woods

to the castle

loomed before her now

with a reborn urgency.

She only hoped to find the king,

to look into his eyes again.

The sun glared brightly

even as dark clouds pressed in

from the coast.

The woods seemed strange, uneasy now

but still she trusted

this familiar trail,

and singing softly to herself

she began her trek to Mayberrie.


By midday the clouds

began to shroud the sun

and distant thunder

echoed through the trees –

what new storm was this?

Rain began to hiss

through the trees

and she dared not stop to rest

but nibbled on a biscuit

as she hastened on her way.

It would be late afternoon

before the towers of the castle

rose above the trees.


The rain fell harder now.

She pulled her shawl

tightly ‘round her head

as a sudden chill

rose in her breast.

The loud tromp of horses

echoed just beyond the rise,

their sharp hooves pounding harshly

even in the mud.

It was happening too fast.


Before she could dive

into the darkness of the brush

a troop of soldiers

red-faced and unsmiling

spotted her.

She fled into the woods,

her shawl trailing behind her

as she heard the men dismount.

It’s her, one cried,

I saw the flashing of the ring!

Their voices cut through the gray

and spurred her on –

she knew the lady of the woods

lived just beyond

the trees ahead

and so her heart

rose to her throat

when just within a soldier’s grasp

she stumbled through the open door

and fell into a swoon.


The king granted his injured men

to take an easier path

while he traveled with no guard –

he must do this all alone.

Dark clouds along the coast

impelled him now to hurry

and it wasn’t long

before a heavy rain

began to fall.

Then suddenly his horse came to a halt

without command –

there was a strange, uneasy fear

rising in the forest.

Like a knife

cutting through the afternoon

he felt the cut of treachery

and without cue

his steed turned off the trail

and headed down an old deer path

guided by his own sense of doom.

Through the thickening woods they fled

as far away he heard the angry shouts –

could it be they’d take his crown so soon?

The thunder of the troops

grew close

but then he saw ahead

a familiar stand of trees –

he was very near

the old lady of the woods.

He felt the tension in the muscles

of his horse

and let himself be carried,

knowing he must make it

through the cottage door.


© 2013  Betty Hayes Albright


To be continued with final poem, “Skipping Stones”….


To read previous poems in this story, please click on the “Mayberrie” tab above. Links to each poem are listed, chronologically.

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In his mind, a prism –

another in his heart.

Fans of colors


one light, two wings

in flight.


(c) 1996, 2012 Betty Hayes Albright

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Sleek as a fly-fish,

large as a house,

now it’s only a speck in the sky.

It crouched right here

like a fat old cat

but now it’s five miles high!


We could reach out and touch it

so close it sat,

that streamlined monster in gray –

but then with a roar

it said goodbye

and the jet plane was up and away.


© 1970, 2012   Betty Hayes Albright


(This was written in about 1970, shortly after the first 747’s were being test-flown here in Seattle. It was a jaw-dropping sight to see one flying overhead for the first time.)

Thanks to Thomas Davis at Four Windows Press who posted a children’s poem today – which reminded me it was time to start posting more of mine. You can visit Thomas’ and Ethel’s wonderful blog at  Four Windows Press 

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.    .    .    (old one from 1976)


I thought it safe inside my cage,

but could I learn to fly?

Such warmth between those steel walls,

but would my spirit die?


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.


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?


All I did was flounder more

as night was drawing nigh.

It seemed the worst was happening

and none could tell me why.


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.


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.


©  1976, 2012  Betty Hayes Albright 

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