Ingrid Bruck is wild flower gardener and a poet inspired by nature. She lives in Amish country in Pennsylvania. This site shocases selected works by her.

Mantle & golden days & My Landscape - Published by:  The Blue Mountain Review, Issue 6

Mantle 

 

After a move from suburbs to mountains, 

mantle residents emerge from boxes:

a carved wood chicken, 

a square head hammer,

a sculpted bat made of copper,

a kerosene lamp,

driftwood that looks like gurgling water, 

a white feathered owl.

 

All come to rest on top of the mantle,

a rough slab of reclaimed wood with knots and cracks,

supported on two square rocks

set in a fireplace wall 

made of blocks of field stone.

 

Silver glitters in sunshine on the wall, 

outside enters in.  

The sentries on the shelf have come home,

they face a dairy farm across the road 

and connect the house to the land.

 

~

 

golden days

 

sunlit grass in a wind dance,

stinkbugs gliding on afternoon heat

looking for a way into the house,

tobacco drying in the barn,

corn stubble warming the fields,

crisp yellow leaves falling,

silver rod waving on the roadside~

 

a fall constellation,

my consolation.  

 

~  

 

My Landscape 

 

I am the Blue Ridge Mountains,

grass snakes and chipmunks live under my rocks,

my eyes, blue as springtime, are Forget-Me-Nots.  

my ears, corn cobs with silken strands 

gather song from the the land. 

my nose, a tree, inhales sun and rain.

my backbone rests on the timberline, 

gray rock exposed to open sky.,

I exhale hoar frost and ice in winter.

I host an army of plants and animals, 

grow wildflowers, rhododendrons, and bushes.

seeds, dead flowers and weeds wash down my paths, 

oregano sprouts next to a wildflower

after a shower that drums on boulders

and sinks into blueberry bushes.

weeds decay on my flanks,

my soil fog damp.

wind brushes my leaves

and juggles the yelps of critters 

that call me home.  

Men try to tame me,

my falling timber

splits in a scream, 

silence fills the woods. 

 

https://issuu.com/southernmusepublishers/docs/issue_6

 

 

drought: tanka & too much rain - Published by:  Walking Is Still Honest

Spring Wind Sonnet, Night & white horse - Published by:  Verse-Virtual