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Posts Tagged ‘Pan’

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Where’s your dance, old tree?

The wind plays –

let’s see you sway,

I long to hear

your rustling green.

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Did Autumn tighten up

your knots

and sap your limbs

too soon?

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It seems that Pan

has left you,

tail tucked between his legs

when he saw the horizon

turning black

instead of blue.

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And now I too must hurry off

to find my cave and pray

that dawn

will wring out the mourning

and wash the ash away.

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(c) 1980, 2019  Betty Hayes Albright

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This is an old one, revised. It was originally written in 1980, two months before Mount St. Helens erupted a hundred miles away from us. (A dear friend of mine died in the eruption, along with her husband and two children.)  I always assumed the poem was a premonition of that tragic event, but it seems to also fit in with current events on this dear old planet of ours.  (The original version was posted here in 2014.)

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P.S. Once again I’m behind reading blogs. Will hopefully catch up with you all soon!

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eruption_mount_st_helens_05-18-80

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Where’s your dance, old tree?

The music blows,

let’s see you sway,

I long to hear

your rustling green.

Did winter tighten up your knots

and sap your limbs so soon?

What’s this?

It seems Pan left you

tail tucked between his legs

when he saw the horizon

turning black

instead of blue.

And now I too

must hurry off

to find my cave and pray

that the dawn

will turn our mourning

into day.

.

(c) 1980, 2014 Betty Hayes Albright

.Written in March, 1980 – two months before Mt. St. Helens erupted, on May 18th. A premonition, perhaps….

57 people were killed, including my close friend Barbara Pierce Seibold.

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And she will dwell

in a cottage of white

and wait for him

at the river’s edge

with birds and breezes

tending the trees

and they’ll be coming

through the woods,

the poets and flutists

late at night

and after they’re gone

she’ll dance naked through

the wildflowers

beneath the moon

a yellow ribbon

tied around her heart.

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(c) 1995, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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eruption_mount_st_helens_05-18-80

Mt. St. Helens – May 1980 eruption

.

Where’s your dance, old tree?

The music blows,

let’s see you sway,

I long to hear

your rustling green.

Did winter tighten up your knots

and sap your limbs so soon?

What’s this?

It seems Pan left you

tail tucked between his legs

when he noticed the horizon

turning black

instead of blue.

And now I too

must hurry off

to find my cave and pray

that the dawn

will turn our mourning

into day.

.

(c) 1980, 2014 Betty Hayes Albright  

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(Premonition of Mt. St. Helens eruption?)

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