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Posts Tagged ‘wings’

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Washing dishes and

longing out the window

at trees

when suddenly

the ends of the universe touch

like the tips of two wings

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and I’m there

at that center

where nothing exists

but a bubbly plate

and the clear hot water

rinsing it clean.

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©  2012, 2020 Betty Hayes Albright 

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Re-posted from 2015, previously titled “Clear”.

Also published in Skipping Stones in 2018.

This is a revised version — hopefully improved. 😊

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Now we understand —

time is not a fleeting thing,

it is we who fleet.

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Now we understand –

time does not have any wings,

it is we who fly.

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Now we understand –

there is only one present

for us to unwrap.

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© 2020  Betty Hayes Albright

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Sorry I’m way behind reading blogs again. Am missing you all, and will hopefully start catching up soon, little by little. Please forgive me if I don’t comment much.  (Fibromyalgia and chronic back pain are the usual culprits, and I know many of you can relate to these “invisible” health problems.) 

Loving thoughts to everyone. ❤❤

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Fifty doves

fly as one –

a hundred wings

on a string

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like a cloud

caught by the sun

in a glint

and a flutter

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before they all

disappear

to swerve in the curve

of caprice.

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© 2020  Betty Hayes Albright 

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IMG_7939

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I’d fly on white wings,

one of joy

one of sorrow

balanced

on crosswinds

above

and below

to mate

in mid-flight

with a prayer.

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(c) 1990, 2018 Betty Hayes Albright

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(A re-post from 2011)

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My thoughts and condolences are with Santa Fe, Texas today, and with all those affected by this most recent school shooting. When will it stop?

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Oh garden bird

you kept a wild heart

between your ribs

as you danced

the morning zephyr

darting circles

through the phlox.

Your last song

sang of forgiveness

to the cat

before you died.

Let me hold

your empty body

till I feel again

the pulse

of swaying hills

and flying trees,

till my own wings spread

new feathers

and we both reclaim the sky.

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(c) 1995, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post)

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(an old one from the ’70’s)

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Fly,  homing pigeon –

high above effects,

blood-stained battlegrounds,

crackling casinos,

robbers of graves,

the sweating of small stuff.

Ready, aim, soar

above the tallest tree

to the mountain top.

Fly home, Beloved –

your wings were made for this.

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(c) 1978, 2012 Betty Hayes Albright

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Dove – 2011 posting

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I’d fly on white wings,2doves

one of joy

one of sorrow

balanced

on crosswinds

above

and below

to mate

in mid-flight

with a prayer.

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(c) 1990, 2018  Betty Hayes Albright

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