Posted in Deep Water, Poetry 2010 - present, tagged eternity, fog, hope, nature, poem, Poetry, shaman, spirituality, Trees on March 5, 2017| 8 Comments »
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It softens the edges
of tree and crow,
blunts our point of view.
We can turn a corner
in the fog
and never know.
See the old man
in the mist?
He is a shaman
shifting our perspective
with his white breath.
He knows that fog
is a giant, downy feather
that blesses our fever,
then suspends us
between all that ever was
and all that ever can be
in the alpha-omega soup
of possibility.
.
© 2013, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
.
(A re-post from four years ago. )
Posted in haiku or senryu, Poetry 2010 - present, tagged fog, Grace, haiku, nature, poem, Poetry, spirituality, Trees on January 14, 2015| 10 Comments »
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Bare trees veiled in grace
raise cold branches in deep fog
certain of the sun.
.
(c) 2015 Betty Hayes Albright
.
.
(photos taken January 2015)
Posted in Poetry 2010 - present, tagged dreams, fog, frost, gardens, ice, poem, Poetry, seeds, sun, waiting for spring, winter on January 24, 2014| 22 Comments »
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Underneath the frost it turns
hidden in a fog it churns
winter snaps its coiled whip
cracks the ice but holds its grip.
It wraps the trees in shiver beads
chews on shadows, spits out seeds
gracing gardens flocked in sleep
waiting for that northward leap
of the wandering, prodigal sun.
.
.
© 2014, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
.
(Note: For others like me who didn’t realize there are both positive and negative meanings of prodigal, the intended definition in this poem is #3 in Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary – “yielding abundantly”.)
Posted in haiku or senryu, Poetry 2010 - present, tagged autumn, blackbird, Crows, fog, haiku, poem, Poetry, robin, Trees, worm on October 22, 2013| 9 Comments »
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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
Posted in Deep Water, Poetry 2010 - present, tagged fog, mysticism, nature, poem, Poetry, possibility, reality, spirituality on January 20, 2013| 22 Comments »
.
It softens the edges
of trees and crows,
blunts our point of view.
We can turn a corner
in the fog
and never know.
See the old man
in the mist?
He is a shaman
shifting our perspective
with his white breath.
He knows that fog
is a giant, downy feather
that blesses our fever,
then suspends us
between all that ever was
and all that ever can be
in the alpha-omega soup
of possibility.
.
© 2013, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
.
(Photo taken 1-18-2013)
Click on image for more info.
Seasonings 