Posts Tagged ‘Trees’




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?


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?


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.



©  2012, 2018  Betty Hayes Albright


(re-post from 2012)



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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,


but not barren.



© 2013, 2018  Betty Hayes Albright 


(a re-post)

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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.



©  2017  Betty Hayes Albright 


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


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Without all their leaves

did the trees lose their beauty

or was it revealed?



(c) 2014, 2017  Betty Hayes Albright



Thursday is Thanksgiving in the U.S.

Love and thanks to everyone, here and around the world, for your friendship and poetic exchanges on WordPress.   🙂


(photo from morguefile.com)



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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.



(c) 1992, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright


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She thought it was

the autumn sun

shining on the dogwood tree

but no

the leaves themselves

were flushed

defying the gray

with red-gold embers

self-lit in the gloom.

It was the spark

within the dead,

the nuances of yesterday,

the fire of life

banked against all odds.



(c) 2010, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright


(re-post, revised)


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She talks to trees

and birds,

to flowers, bees

and dragonflies.

They like to hear


how beautiful they are

and then they whisper

their own story

and she listens

care fully.



(c) 2013, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright


.(revision of an older poem)

.Photo taken in 2010 with my old camera



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