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Posts Tagged ‘Poetry’

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Capricious one

I often wonder

if in truth

our hearts grow fonder

.

longing for

the agate blue

of sky-reflecting

drops of dew,

.

of simple pleasures

on the skin

and tender truths

to wrap us in

.

fine threads of wisdom

knit with choices

weaving through

those distant voices

.

firing up

our tender hopes

while mating in

kaleidoscopes.

.

Then shall we

consummate the sun?

I wonder,

oh capricious one.

.

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© 2019  Betty Hayes Albright

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Baby leaves unfurl

from trees planted long ago —

tendered new in spring.

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© 2012, 2019  Betty Hayes Albright

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Originally posted in 2012… revised.

(Photo from 2012)

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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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She still remembers

his deep embrace    

in the open entryway

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and the salty taste of urgency

on the tongue

of an April day

.

and their offering

to the gods

as it hung in the sun to dry

.

to fluff and fold,

but tenderly —

in the wrinkles of goodbye.    

.

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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.

.

.

(c) 1994, 2019  Betty Hayes Albright

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The poetess opens

like a book

bound in silk

with florets in the margins

and gold-edged pages turning

.

and turning

with every breath

of the Muse

reading over

her shoulder.

.

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© 2019  Betty Hayes Albright 

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