Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘seasons’

Earth Tones

Legion Park flowers

.

Summer loses its neon edge,

turns more to the gentle shades

of terracotta, celadon green,

and lavender gone to seed.

 .

Gaia takes a weary breath,

gathers her spent offspring

into a hushed circle.

There she tells them stories

of blithering winds 

and biting snow,

and cold, cold, cold.

You must rest, she says.

 .

Oh no, not yet, they beg her,

pointing to a shrinking

ray of sun.

And over on the hillock

there is one more splash of pink.

.

Gaia smiles and nods her head.

There will be time enough

for them to sleep.

 .

©  2016  Betty Hayes Albright

.

(Photo taken last week in nearby park.)

Read Full Post »

This tall stretch

of a winter’s day

scrapes silver

from the crumpled sky.

I turn to face

a southern glow

with eyes upraised

and heart thrice full –

O Sun, I’d woo thee

north again

to light this shadow land.

.

(c) 1993, 2014 Betty Hayes Albright

Read Full Post »

.

We leave our warm houses,

walk the long path

to the meadow

where shadows

catch in mid-freeze.

The stillness becomes us –

a breath in the thickets,

a widening of eyes,

the gentle padding of time.

From the trees come whispered

ribbons of sun

weaving through the branches

to find us waiting

our arms raised high

in praise of this day

when light reacquaints us

with Light.

.

(c) 2003, 2014  Betty Hayes Albright

Read Full Post »

(Old one from 1980)

.

Calendar pages

flap in the breeze of the

minute hands

winding me up

till I sputter

when is it?

at one o’clocktwo

on SaturSunMonday

sunrising

to summerfall

bees buzzing

seconds

alarm in my ear

till it spins me

around

and all that’s

behind me

is everytime.

.

(c) 1980, 2014  Betty Hayes Albright

Read Full Post »

.

A tree knows.

It knows the animal of time

that stretches up its trunk

wrinkling hours into bark.

A tree knows that rain

falls between suns

and that baby birds

fly their nests

and return full of eggs.

A tree knows

that endings

swallow their own tails

to become tight brown nuggets

falling in circles

flavoring earth with the future.

A tree knows.

And what it knows best

is to unfold.

.

(c) 2003, 2014 Betty Hayes Albright

.

Read Full Post »

We leave our warm houses,

walk the long path

to the meadow

where shadows

catch in mid-freeze.

In the stillness

it becomes us –

a breath in the thickets,

a widening of eyes,

the gentle padding of time.

From the trees

come whispers

and ribbons of sun

weaving through the branches

to find us waiting

our arms raised high

in praise of this first day

when light reacquaints us

with Light.

.

(c) 2003, 2014  Betty Hayes Albright

Read Full Post »

« Newer Posts

%d bloggers like this: