Posts Tagged ‘survival’


Where’s your dance, old tree?

The wind plays –

let’s see you sway,

I long to hear

your rustling green.


Did Autumn tighten up

your knots

and sap your limbs

too soon?


It seems that Pan

has 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 dawn

will wring out the mourning

and wash the ash away.



(c) 1980, 2019  Betty Hayes Albright


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.)


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



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 Birch trees catch my eye

deep in the trough of winter

white bark withstanding.



©  2014, 2018  Betty Hayes Albright 


Partial of an original watercolor by my grandmother,

Lilly Bjornstad.  (She painted this when she was about 100.  She lived to 108.)



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The sea folds back

upon itself

does not permit

the easy love

nor duplications

of a dream,

and she no longer rides

that broken wave –

it is behind her now.

But still she knows

the sacred vessel

of their love

will navigate

the undertow

and when the tide

wraps high again

she’ll be here

watching, waiting,

on the shore.


© 1996, 2016  Betty Hayes Albright 

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(revised, and title changed from “Still” to “Heed”)


“Where has gone the light?”

Gaia's Kiss

Gaia’s Kiss by charissa1066 via Flickr

they implored the emptiness.


“It’s not the candle,

but the flame

that matters,”

came the swift reply

in answer to their woe.


“Change must be the vessel

that carries Gaia

through the storm.

It was your dragging apathy

that drove her off

into the mist

where only those

with unveiled eyes

can still make out her form –

where only those

with opened ears

can still discern her voice.


“I am still here,

that humankind 

will learn to breathe

new life into the dust,

that earth shall rise

in startling vitality.

I am still here, beloved ones!

I am here, still

but now it’s up to you.”


© 2000, 2012  Betty Hayes Albright

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