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Posts Tagged ‘moon’

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And she will dwell

in a cottage of white

and wait for him

at the river’s edge

with birds and breezes

tending the trees.

And they’ll be coming

through the woods,

the poets and flutists

late at night

and after they’re gone

she’ll dance naked

through

the wildflowers

beneath the moon

a yellow ribbon

tied around her heart.

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(c) 1995, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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(re-post from 2012)

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Last night

I saw your moon

silver,

waxing full

between the clouds,

its hug

wrapping me to sleep.

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This morning

I saw your sunrise

coral,

spreading low

through the clouds,

its breath

flushing over my cheeks.

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Tonight

I see your sunset

violet,

easing down

below the clouds,

its rays

combing out my dreams.

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(c)  1982, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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(Written in 1982, taken out of mothballs and revised.)

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Was that the moon

or just a mood

that crawled across the sun?

For awhile

it seemed the day

had lost its way

leaving just

the steaming edges

of its magnitude.

But all things pass

and so this too

that shadow-stealing

interlude,

we’re warm again

the sky is blue,

the sun

was just in need

of a little Sol i tude.

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©  2012, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright 

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(Hopefully many of you will get to witness the solar eclipse tomorrow as it crosses the U.S. It’ll be at 98% totality from here in SW Washington. Can’t wait!)

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(revision of 2012 poem “Eclipse”)

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IMG_7227

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Moon like an opal

hanging from a coral thread

veiled by fairy clouds.

 

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(c) 2013, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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(re-post, revised; photo from 2013)

 

 

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jason-photo-of-full-moonb

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Sun gives it all up

for lavender and yellow;

tree launches the moon.

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©  2017  Betty Hayes Albright 

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(Photo taken by my son,  Jason Judd)

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IMG_8127

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Moon blazes a trail

through the cottage cheesy clouds

waxes victory.

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(c) 2014  Betty Hayes Albright

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(photo taken last night – 9-8-2014.)

 

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Acolyte

Moon, like a giant lily

floats in bloom

on the surface of night.

It is then we remember

that without Sun

we’d never know Luna

except for the tides

rising in our breasts.

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(c) 1997, 2014  Betty Hayes Albright

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