Frozen

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Bone-deep in winter

meadow trees are sleeping, but

time skates on thin ice.

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(c) 2022  Betty Hayes Albright

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Water-color by my grandmother, Lilly Bjornstad

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Morning

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Sunshine through the squall

rainbow arching to the west –

pot of tea, steeping.

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Feral cat sleeping

in her bed outside the door –

steam rises from trees.

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© 2020  Betty Hayes Albright 

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Future Tense

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Where’s your dance, old tree?

The wind plays –

let’s see you sway,

I long to hear

your rustling green.

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Did Autumn tighten up

your knots

and sap your limbs

too soon?

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It seems that Pan

has left you,

tail tucked between his legs

when he saw the horizon

turning black

instead of blue.

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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.

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(c) 1980, 2019  Betty Hayes Albright

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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.)

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

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See-Saw

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The old Shaman

placed his hands

on the trunk

of an ancient tree

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fitting his fingers

between the ripples and creases

of the bark,

until he heard a whispering –

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“Oh, spare me from

the greed of the axe

and the fickle see-saw

of humanity!”

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But from the distant edge

of the forest

the old Shaman also heard

the growl of a chain-saw

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and he smelled the exhaust

and the gasoline,

and he heard the shouts

of timbering men

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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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Virgo

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Sunlight shrinks away

behind the thin of poplar trees,

spiders throw red shadows

in the paths of tired bees,

spells of a waxing moon are cast

and dragonflies change speed

with just a touch of madness

as summer goes to seed.

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(c) 1993, 2018 Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post from 2011 – revised)

.Photo by Ithalu Dominguez on Pexels.com

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Resting the Woods

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Under the jungle-wood

resting on the rock

we hauled down

from Jack’s Pass,

tree limbs hover low, and

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brush my dirt-stained feet

as I stretch

into the mesh

of heathered sunlight

through the leaves.

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(c) 1982, 2018  Betty Hayes Albright

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This is a revision of a poem written in 1982.

Photo taken by my son, Jason Judd.

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Evergreens and Calibrachoa – (two Senryu’s)

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Neon-lit flowers

spill from their wooden barrel,

“Catch me if your can!”

 

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Young evergreen trees

reach out their limbs for a hug

and I shall comply.

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(c) 2018  Betty Hayes Albright

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(Photos from my back yard, yesterday…)

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I am Tree

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I give my body

for your tables

and your chairs,

for bracelets

and for drums.

You hammer me

into your floors,

untie my shiny knots

beneath your feet.

Can you hear me whisper?

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My branches stretch

to stars and wind

and fold you close at night,

and in the dawn

you grind me

into sawdust

for your pathways

and your barns –

you dance a jig on me.

Can you hear me sigh?

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My leaves

suck the poison

from your air

and shield your faces

from the heat.

Then tenderly

they cover Earth

with patchwork colors

suckling winter into spring.

Can you hear me howl?

I am Tree.

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©  2012, 2018  Betty Hayes Albright

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(re-post from 2012)

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Trees in Winter

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Are they really lifeless

those empty arms

of winter

branching leafless

in naked grace?

Gaia says no,

that deep in frozen dreams

memories thicken,

sweet syrup

of other times gone

and dreams to come.

Till then these aching limbs

reach out to the silence,

bare

but not barren.

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© 2013, 2018  Betty Hayes Albright 

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(a re-post)

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What Poets Do

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When we see

snow flocked trees,

a soaring hawk

and winter greens

we seize the beauty

and set it free:

catch   and   release.

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©  2017  Betty Hayes Albright 

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(True of all artists, photographers, writers, sculptors, painters, musicians. 🙂 )

 

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