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White Night

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And there was such a midnight

when the air took on a glow

and the sky began to loosen

and the dark was lit by snow

and the woods were sooner filled

with a whispering gypsy light

that danced across my footprints,

then swaddled them in white.

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(c) 1993, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post)

 

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It’s one more slippery

snow-white day

when every bird

has stolen away

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except for one

in the old elm tree

who watches my window.

But does he see me,

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or just the reflection

of love left behind?

I blow him a kiss

through the half-opened blind.

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And as each new season

transfigures our view

perhaps he won’t mind

that I’m watching him too.

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© 2017  Betty Hayes Albright 

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She sips hot tea

and watches snow

fall through the trees

and those ugly electric wires

that slice across her view.

She sighs…

“The world is too much with us,”

William Wordsworth said so long ago.

What would he say now?

Children play outside

with phones stuck to their faces

and never look up.

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It doesn’t stick.

She turns from the window

to her beloved books:

poetry, philosophy,

nature, metaphysics –

millions and billions of words

strung in constellations of idea.

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She imagines stirring them up

into one large pot

over a hot fire

and wonders what the bottom line

would be – the final alchemy.

Perhaps this one plea:

to speak our love now

before the die is cast,

before we sign our exodus;

to lift ourselves

by bootstraps woven

with the dreams of Gaia.

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Her tea has gone cold.

She turns back to the window

where the snow is finally sticking

and the trees are turning white.

And seventy times seven birds

are perched upon the wires.

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© 2016  Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post from 2012)

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And after the blaze, what?

Would they,

like snow on fire

end in vapor

against the starry night?

She stands below his mountaintop

frozen to her ache

and lights a match.

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(c) 1995, 2014  Betty Hayes Albright

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(written for my young sons in 1979)

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Children, lay your presents down,

come look and see what I just found –

a tree outside all flocked in snow

that doesn’t need a wire to glow;

playful squirrels – the romping kind

that you never have to wind.

A snowman’s outside every home,

not one is made of Styrofoam.

There’s peace and quiet for your heart

not found inside a shopping cart,

and living color in a smile

that’s brought to you without a dial. *

The wind is singing up the street

to rosy cheeks and dancing feet,

to easy laughter, mellow sighs,

whispering of the grand surprise

that comes on winter’s longest night –

the promise of returning Light.

So children, lay your presents down,

behold the gift that Love has found.

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© 1979, 2014 Betty Hayes Albright

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* Waaay back in the late 60’s and early 70’s, certain t.v. shows were “brought to you in living color” (as opposed to the more common black and white) – on televisions that still had dials. Funny – seems so antiquated now.

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And there was such a midnight

when the air took on a glow

and the sky began to loosen

and the dark was lit by snow

and the woods were sooner filled

with a whispering gypsy light

that danced across my footprints,

then covered them in white.

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(c) 1993, 2014 Betty Hayes Albright

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(photo taken 2-9-2014)

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Heavy laden sky

gives itself to lure of earth,

forest is hush-hush.

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 © 2013  Betty Hayes Albright

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(Photo 12-20-2013 – view from window)

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