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Posts Tagged ‘nature’

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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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Oh garden bird

you kept a wild heart

between your ribs

as you danced

the morning zephyr

darting circles

through the phlox.

Your last song

sang of forgiveness

to the cat

before you died.

Let me hold

your empty body

till I feel again

the pulse

of swaying hills

and flying trees,

till my own wings spread

new feathers

and we both reclaim the sky.

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(c) 1995, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post)

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Let’s go

his body cries

as he clings to the edge

of everything he knows

pulling and stretching

the nuances of air

between each feather

posturing the sun

on his back.

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Then it comes for him,

the breath of Gaia

rushing in

rushing out

teasing his wild

hungry wings

till he captures her

exhaling

and lets go.

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©  2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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Gift

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Possum tumbles

like an old football

through branches

to the garden below.

Dazed, he snuffles

through warm leaves

climbs again

limb by slow limb

to his dozing nest

where he’ll finish his dream

of the gardener below

who is wiping her shoe

on the grass.

He thinks she is kind

and tonight

he will leave another offering.

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(c) 1997, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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(For a future children’s book, maybe….)

 

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Dotty little lady bug,

I would give you such a hug

but if I hold you close to me

I’m afraid you’ll cease to be

so I shall place you on my finger,

maybe you won’t go, but linger

till a breeze lifts you away – 

another flower, another day.

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© 2013, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright

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(A re-post.  Photo from http://www.wallpaprest.com)

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