Posts Tagged ‘mystery’

Comes that moment
when eyes connect
with a stranger’s
and we feel
that deep click
in the gears
of the cosmos

and we’ve known them
and it doesn’t matter
we’ll never meet again.
© 2012, 2018 Betty Hayes Albright

(re-posted from 2012)

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Bring me quick water

swifting down mountains

through the steep canyons

falling, falling

and I’ll fill my chalice.


Bring me slow water

teasing through sand

carving the dunes

and where the tide flows

I will follow.


Bring me rain water

storming through trees,

I’ll toss my umbrella

up to the wind

and we’ll watch it dance.


Bring me frozen water

sweet flakes

veiling my face

then marry me to the sky

and I’ll wear white.


Bring me deep water

in a well of sapphire glances

and I’ll toss in

a playful wish

to kiss your mystery.


© 2013, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright


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Part I


Spring had passed,

he said goodbye

in full battle dress

leaving for the dunes

of Mayberrie

and there his honor

would be gauged

not by the pounds of flesh

spinning past his head

but by that lock of hair

he carried near his breast.

And all the gold that entered

by the bay

would be for naught.


“It’s just the way I am,” she says,

“no cherubs at my side

to fold my dress.”

She humbly comes to him

on the path

not marked by blood.

It was theirs twice-over

and often in the lilies

the petals

caught her hair.

The fairies smiled delight

that he would know.


But he wouldn’t know

the source of the rush

nor the briny orchestration

of the sea,

yet in his sight there’d be

a dark landing on cold sand

and all the lives

he’d lived before

would roll before his eyes

and there would be no doubt

in history.


 He would not hear of it,

“Nay! Tell it to the king.”

His cohorts heard the sighs

in Albigon.

His soul will ride this night,

but for pleasures

there be curses.

‘Tis not his neck

the lass would have,

nor colors she would ride.


 And so it was in writing

and sewn into his cloak

at the dark edge of the wood:

“Take heed this slippery climb

for it is fraught with danger,

there are few who know the way.

Unsheathe your sword and follow

into this sunless day.”


She secretly escapes

into the dawn

for comfort in the hills

branded evermore

with tender trysts.

But brambles tear

her many skirts

and she must haste

back to cold rooms

and pray his spirit waits.


The sea has touched him

and she will bathe

in the waves;

his eyes have met the moon

and she will lie prone

in moonlight;

he has walked this path

and her bare feet will dance

up the hill;

and he has planted


and she will pluck their fruit.


(c) 1995, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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