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Posts Tagged ‘nature’

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The old Shaman

placed his hands

on the trunk

of an ancient tree

.

fitting his fingers

between the ripples and creases

of the bark,

until he heard a whispering –

.

“Oh, spare me from

the greed of the axe

and the fickle see-saw

of humanity!”

.

But from the distant edge

of the forest

the old Shaman also heard

the growl of a chain-saw

.

and he smelled the exhaust

and the gasoline,

and he heard the shouts

of timbering men

.

and so he bowed his head

and wept,

as a drop of pitch

landed on his cheek.

.

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(c) 2019  Betty Hayes Albright

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O vernal sun,

come sweeten the rain

as you plant your secrets

under thick moss —

.

lend the forsythia

pots of gold

and warm the stones

that circle our garden —

.

let poppies buzz

and sword ferns uncurl

as Earth becomes great

with tender.

.

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(c) 1994, 2019  Betty Hayes Albright

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An old one, never published here… that I know of.  

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Wishing everyone in the northern hemisphere a beautiful Springtime!  🌷 

And to all of us – north, south, east, west – may love, wisdom and peace someday reign on this mixed up world of ours. 💚

 

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Earth’s belly growls

when the wind

scours the valley

and rain swells the sky.

.

Shadows loosen,

pressing more tightly

under rocks,

clinging closer to fences

and trees.

.

Flickers arrive

flashing new red

under their wings

.

while down below

the garden stirs —

and Gaia’s favorite color

is green.

.

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(c) 1994, 2019  Betty Hayes Albright

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Afternoon gloom —

I know it will soon

be time to tread the snowy path home.

.

A distant candle

lights the way

to my fire, my books, and my love.

.

And tomorrow the sun

will rise a bit sooner

dispelling the darkness a little bit longer,

.

melting away

the frostbitten edge

of this unsung penumbra of night.

.

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(c) 1988, 2018  Betty Hayes Albright

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(An old, unpublished poem, taken out of mothballs.)

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He says she’s over the hill,

that she’s dancing

with entropy

toward the valley below

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but she hears the call

of flickers, and the chitter

of squirrels,

and she sees ahead

.

lush meadows, tall trees,

and moss-covered stones

on the path

by a sapphire river.

.

There, she’ll follow the scent

of her own deep roots

to a range of mountains,

their tops hidden

.

in the subtleties he missed

between the lines

on her face

when e’er she smiled.

.

.

(c)  2018  Betty Hayes Albright

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It blows in

from the sea,

that ancient wind –

splitting in half

around the mountain,

.

and where it meets itself

on the other side

it clashes thunderously,

failing recognition.

.

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(c) 1994, 2018 Betty Hayes Albright

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bird2

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We found a little box

with a speckled bird inside

and fed it bits of food

and water from a dropper,

until the day he asked

for a bigger place.

.

And so we placed him lovingly

inside a gilded cage

with trays of seeds

and a wooden perch

where he could hop about.

.

“This is fine for now,” he said,

“but tomorrow

I want something bigger.”

.

We quickly built an aviary

with maple trees

and blueberry shrubs

where he could flutter

through the leaves.

.

“This is nice for now,” he said.

But after several days he asked

to wing about the house,

and finally out the window.

.

We watched him fly

through forests and valleys,

and finally up into the sky

between the stars, and out

beyond the Milky Way.

.

A year went by

and one day he returned,

asking for his little box.

He snuggled down to rest, and said,

“This will do just fine –

for I can see forever

from here now.”

.

.

© 2018  Betty Hayes Albright

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Poem is from a dream I had last April. 

The image is a partial of a print my late parents had – artist unknown. (Update – the artist is Jill Fogelsong.)  The sun just happened to be shining through the window in a certain way, giving it a rainbow effect — which caught my eye. I wasn’t planning to post an image with this poem, but it presented itself just in time. Funny how things work out….

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