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Posts Tagged ‘Gaia’

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When we let it grow

a weed might just surprise us

with uncut beauty.

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(c) 2014, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post)

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Pause

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It all begins to crinkle,

the leaves, the sky

the boundaries of our vision.

Green ruffles turn to gold,

romaine edges of a dream

that curls and wrinkles

in the sun’s retreat.

Our shadows too turn ragged,

we feel them

stretch

and fold

their origami corners

that we too may slumber

in the pause

between now and again.

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(c) 2000, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright

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She talks to trees

and birds,

to flowers, bees

and dragonflies.

They like to hear

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how beautiful they are

and then they whisper

their own story

and she listens

care fully.

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(c) 2013, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright

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.(revision of an older poem)

.Photo taken in 2010 with my old camera

 

 

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Bring me quick water

swifting down mountains

falling, falling

through the steep canyons

and I’ll fill my chalice.

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Bring me slow water

teasing through sand

carving the dunes

and where the tide flows

I will follow.

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Bring me rain water

storming through trees

I’ll toss my umbrella

up to the wind

and we’ll watch it dance.

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Bring me frozen water

sweet flakes

veiling my face

then marry me to the sky

and I’ll wear white.

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Bring me deep water

in a well of sapphire glances

and I’ll toss in

a coy wish

to kiss your mystery.

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© 2013, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post)

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She burrows under

leaves and twigs

slides past thorn

and nettle

chews through

her own roots

to mate with worms

where the soil is dark

and sweet.

Earth fills her ears

with lullabies

and she sleeps

sealed

in tomorrow’s rose.

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(c) 1992, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post)

 

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Tight-clenched bud

lets go

its knotty grip

and rigid reveries

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yields its petals

to the pull

of sunlight

through the trees

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all the while

Gaia smiles

and sends for

honeybees.

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(c) 1977, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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She searches for a pulsetree-in-hand

her fingers kneading earth

beneath rocks and stones

to reach the heart of Gaia.

There she rides the quake

of nature’s first womb

lifting her face

to catch the genesis

of sun and rain

wind

and moon

till seedlings birth

their promises.

Labor replete

she bows her head

and the gods kiss the dirt

beneath her nails.

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(c) 1992, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post)

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Photo originally used with permission of Jason in 2012 at  http://loveuniversallove.wordpress.com/

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