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Posts Tagged ‘nature’

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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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I hear it sing

through the kitchen window

your old wind chime

its long weathered pipes

clanging across the wetlands

echoing up the hillside.

You wave to me now

smiling

from the crest

of a mighty gale

roaring through the heavens

and away.

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©  2017  Betty Hayes Albright 

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(For my late son Arlie, who would be turning 45 on July 29th)

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She prayed to the gods,

“let me make love

to the trees in your forest”

but the gods were silent.

And so she implored them again

“let me couple with the creek

that sings through your valley,

bear me up

to embrace your mountains,

cradle me down

to mate with the sea”

but again the gods were silent.

And once more she cried out

with trembling heart,

“grant me consummation

with the universe this night!”

And once more

the gods were silent

but this time

they sent to her

a shaman,

one who was desiring

the same.

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(c) 1995, 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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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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We are tuna fish

breathing the sea,

oblivious to mayo and toast.

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We are cocoa

in the hot southern bean,

our proof is not yet in the pudding.

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We are tomato

bulging acid in red sun,

unsuspecting the BLT.

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We are lettuce leaf

photosynthesized,

ignorant of a thousand islands.

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We are potato,

white jewel buried in soil

unconscious of sour cream and chives.

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We are yeast,

multiplying dark spaces

waiting to be kneaded.

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(c) 1996, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post)

 

 

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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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