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Posts Tagged ‘future’

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A tree knows.

It knows the animal of time

that climbs up its trunk,

wrinkling hours into bark.

It knows that rain

falls between suns

and that baby birds

fly their nests

and return full of eggs.

A tree knows

that endings

swallow their own tails

to become tight brown nuggets

falling in circles,

flavoring earth with the future.

A tree knows.

And what it knows best

is to give.

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(c) 2003, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post, revised)

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She sips hot tea

and watches snow

fall through the trees

and those ugly electric wires

that slice across her view.

She sighs…

“The world is too much with us,”

William Wordsworth said so long ago.

What would he say now?

Children play outside

with phones stuck to their faces

and never look up.

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It doesn’t stick.

She turns from the window

to her beloved books:

poetry, philosophy,

nature, metaphysics –

millions and billions of words

strung in constellations of idea.

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She imagines stirring them up

into one large pot

over a hot fire

and wonders what the bottom line

would be – the final alchemy.

Perhaps this one plea:

to speak our love now

before the die is cast,

before we sign our exodus;

to lift ourselves

by bootstraps woven

with the dreams of Gaia.

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Her tea has gone cold.

She turns back to the window

where the snow is finally sticking

and the trees are turning white.

And seventy times seven birds

are perched upon the wires.

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© 2016  Betty Hayes Albright

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Loom

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The seer gazes

past her spinning wheel

and there she eyes

the weave of Yin and Yang

in threads of sun

and yarns of moon

where hope,

like a soft cloth,

polishes the future.

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(c) 1994, 2016   Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post – again my apologies to those who have read it before.)

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(re-posted from 2011)

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She remembers

the future

when rain

crashes deserts

and old seeds

explode

into rivers of flowers

and mountains lean down

close to the sea

and there is no abyss

to slice reality.

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(c) 1994, 2015  Betty Hayes Albright

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Note: this post and the Mayberrie series are all part of the “Deep Water” category – for the DutchMan.

May you be well and safe from quakes and droughts, floods and fires, storms, and all things severe. May you be surrounded by love.

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 The air is spinning!

Squadrons of maple-copters

take the fertile earth.

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(c) 2014  Betty Hayes Albright

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(Image from morguephoto.com – free photos.)

 

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.When a tree is taken down

we grieve its silhouette collapsing

from a stricken sky.

It leaves a phantom

in the corner of our eye,

the shadow of a stolen trunk,

the staunching of osmosis.

And so we wet the earth

with tears

and scatter seeds

among the foddered roots

and lo!

we hear a Gaia song –

a forestation aria

of green

that fills

the empty valley

after we are gone.

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© 2012, 2016  Betty Hayes Albright

 

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(re-posted from 2011)

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The seer gazes

past her spinning wheel

and there she eyes

the weave of Yin and Yang

in threads of sun

and yarns of moon

where hope,

like a soft cloth,

polishes the future.

.

(c) 1994, 2016   Betty Hayes Albright

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It opened up –

a hole in time

and looking through

she saw it all:

sun-cotton weddings

in the shade

of outstretched trees,

eyes in deep lock,

bare feet

dusted with dance,

fingers caressing a priority.

She saw the flashes

of rice and bells,

and on top of the tower

of what-is-to-be

his hands melted free

from the clock.

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(c) 1995, 2014 Betty Hayes Albright

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