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Posts Tagged ‘nature’

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Shadows grow hungry

the sky is in knots,

apples are mellow

the faeries draw lots,

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rabbits have vanished

from safe hiding spots,

hawk flies in circles

connecting the dots.

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© 2014, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright

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(re-post)

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When we let it grow

a weed might just surprise us

with uncut beauty.

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(c) 2014, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post)

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Pause

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It all begins to crinkle,

the leaves, the sky

the boundaries of our vision.

Green ruffles turn to gold,

romaine edges of a dream

that curls and wrinkles

in the sun’s retreat.

Our shadows too turn ragged,

we feel them

stretch

and fold

their origami corners

that we too may slumber

in the pause

between now and again.

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(c) 2000, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright

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She talks to trees

and birds,

to flowers, bees

and dragonflies.

They like to hear

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how beautiful they are

and then they whisper

their own story

and she listens

care fully.

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(c) 2013, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright

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.(revision of an older poem)

.Photo taken in 2010 with my old camera

 

 

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Bring me quick water

swifting down mountains

falling, falling

through the steep canyons

and I’ll fill my chalice.

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Bring me slow water

teasing through sand

carving the dunes

and where the tide flows

I will follow.

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Bring me rain water

storming through trees

I’ll toss my umbrella

up to the wind

and we’ll watch it dance.

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Bring me frozen water

sweet flakes

veiling my face

then marry me to the sky

and I’ll wear white.

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Bring me deep water

in a well of sapphire glances

and I’ll toss in

a coy wish

to kiss your mystery.

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© 2013, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post)

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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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