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It changes fast

that marbled sky

from sheets of paste

to curds of gray

and thin blue belts

with heads of steel

connected

by chain lightning.

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Clouds turn glassy

shadows break

we hasten through

the cracking storm

but pause to lift

our empty cups

to catch the rain

and raise a toast

.

to the wild wind’s

un-leafing

of the fall.

.

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© 1993, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright

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(re-post, revised)

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She takes in the street,

its rain-polished gleam

of high wet shadows,

of tall crows in bare trees.

Cupping her hands

she gathers a reflection

draws it to her lips

and drinks.

.

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(c) 1992, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright

.

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Rush Hour

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From dark, wet lawns

fallen leaves flee

to the gutters,

the streets

spinning cinnamon orange

until giddy, they tumble

in sun-dried whorls

to catch the next storm

out of town.

.

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(c) 1999, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post)

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The lights blow out

and the room grows

starkly quiet

in the dark

.

except for the drip

drip

dripping

of a faucet and

.

those thoughts

she had ignored

now howling

like the wild

of the wind.

.

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©  2015, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright 

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They say it’s coming

strong winds

unusual for June.

Large trees bursting

with foliage

are at risk.

.

They say his heart

was enlarged

(with generosity)

at risk

for a death

out of season.

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Tomorrow when the storm hits

I will go outside

and stand among the trees.

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© 2017  Betty Hayes Albright

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(from 1993)

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When morning woke in silence

and you heard naught but a prayer,

when the earth was scented misty

came a tightness in the air.

And soon the winds were hammering

from sea and onto land

giving chase to charcoal rain

and knocking down what couldn’t stand

the battering and the beating

and the gusting of the gale

as steeples fell, and great old trees

splintered in its trail.

By evening the tempest waned…

the storm released the air…

and as darkness draped the silence

you could hear naught but a prayer.

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(c) 1993, 2016 Betty Hayes Albright

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(We’re in the midst of very stormy, roaring weather in the Pacific NW – hoping to get this posted before the power goes out.)

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storm photo from Jason

photo (c) Jason T. Judd

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.Have you felt

the torrent coming

churning in your marrow

from the very nuclei

deep within your cells?

It bursts into a howling, spinning,

flooding storm of waves

crashing so hard

on the rocks

that sparks fly,

the wind flames

with tongues of heat

that reach the sun

hungry, licking, feeding,

until there’s nothing left

but a belly full of light.

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© 2001, 2015 Betty Hayes Albright

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Photo taken by my son, Jason Judd,

as he flew over New Mexico recently.

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