Frozen

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Bone-deep in winter

meadow trees are sleeping, but

time skates on thin ice.

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(c) 2022  Betty Hayes Albright

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Water-color by my grandmother, Lilly Bjornstad

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Winter Solstice

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Underneath the frost it turns,

hidden in a fog it churns —

winter snaps its coiled whip

cracks the ice but holds its grip.

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It wraps the trees in shiver beads,

chews on shadows, spits out seeds

to grace the gardens flocked in sleep

waiting for that northward leap

of the wandering,

prodigal sun.

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(c) Betty Hayes Albright  2014, 2021

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(Re-posted from 2017)

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Wishing everyone a Happy Winter’s Solstice — and may your holidays be filled with love, joy and peace!

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Feathers

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She likes feathers –

leaves of lace,

wings in willows

kissed with grace,

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trails of moonlight,

velvet strings,

dew-lit grass

and faerie rings.

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She likes watercolors

in the trees

and lichen stirring

in the breeze

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and mossy fractals

around lagoons

and gossamer tendrils

in founts and plumes.

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She likes sea spray

on crystal clear

and Agape in

the atmosphere

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and deep behind

a filigree shawl

undulations

on the wall.

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She likes feathers,

leaves of grace,

time on the wing,

a kiss on the face

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and ribbons dangling

from the mirror

and sweet suggestions

in her ear.

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© 2021  Betty Hayes Albright

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Wild Sides

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The tree turns into bone

while its leaves

turn into feathers

in the alabaster light

just before the sun goes down.

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Ninety feet up

a young eagle leaps

around his nest

of sticks and straw

flapping his wings

like wide miracles

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until the sun finally sets

and they fold again

hugging his wild sides –

every bone and feather

neatly back in place.

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© 2021   Betty Hayes Albright

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Inspired by watching the Redding, California eagle cam. I highly recommend! The three eaglets will fledge in 2-3 weeks.

Sorry for my absence here… hoping to eventually catch up with everyone.

Also hope you’re all well — I’ve missed you all. ❤

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Witness

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Pecking poppy seeds

chickadee does not see me.

Old cat sees us both.

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(c) 2020  Betty Hayes Albright

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Photo by Skylar Ewing / Pexels.com

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Carnival

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On waves of teal sea-shine

we catch a glossy ride

to chase our lost horizons

and race the rising tide.

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We lean to gather white-caps

and taste their salty plumes

till purple weaves a blanket

and wraps us ’round the moon.

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(c) 1992, 2020  Betty Hayes Albright

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Illumination

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Dance little poppy,

bow to ev’ry little breeze —

sunshine lands on all.

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(c) 2020  Betty Hayes Albright

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(Photo taken last week. We had a lot of orange California poppies…this was the only pink one. I love ’em all. 💕)

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P.S. I just realized, today is my 9th anniversary on WordPress!!  Thank you to the many dear friends I’ve met here over the years.)

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Deep July

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Come meet me

in the secret garden

living green

and dancing yellow,

join the bees

and beg their pardon

where the hive

grows sweet and mellow.

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Free of fear

and saved from doom

let us dance

in yonder meadow

where the wild ones

stand and bloom –

spare the truth

and spoil the credo.

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Oh my love,

let’s long abide –

dance the tango

free from care.

Meet me

on the other side –

unloose your heartstrings,

take the dare.

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© 2020  Betty Hayes Albright

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Caught by the Sun

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Fifty doves

fly as one –

a hundred wings

on a string

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like a cloud

caught by the sun

in a glint

and a flutter

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before they all

disappear

to swerve in the curve

of caprice.

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© 2020  Betty Hayes Albright 

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Brine

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So soon, again

they come this way –

long shadows

in the meadow play

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between the leaves

turned red and gold

where faeries

of the frost behold

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a disappearance

of the bees,

the fogging

in a stand of trees,

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the seasoning

of twig and vine

as Fall adds nutmeg

to the brine.

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©  2019  Betty Hayes Albright 

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