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.

Dear Issa, Tree Dweller Fisherfolk & No Smile - Published by:  Cantos 2026: A Literary & Arts Journal, Missouri Baptist University, English Department, John J Hans, PhD, Editor

Dear Issa,

I take a ginkgo walk in the garden 

of 10,000 

bedbugs, moons, and deaths.

 

I follow your footsteps.  

Some days, 

I can’t find haiku. 

I climb to the top of Cold Mountain. 

Did you paint haiku on the cave wall

with ink only visible in full-moon glow? 

I journey to Kyoto where you slept.

Baby Buddhas light the path at the turn

but you are not present in the temple. 

Did you stroll through moss and fern in the garden?

Carry a bucket of water, stroke calligraphy on rocks?

Was the first line dry before you finished?

Dear Issa, I walk in the grove 

where a student hanged himself

but do not unearth a Yellow River poem.     

Thank you, Issa, for taking a ginkgo tour,  

the bedbug in your robe, the frog at the pond, 

its moment of splash, time of inch, act of sting. 

Your English Friend Across Time

*

Tree Dweller Fisherfolk

who are these tree dwellers 

fishing from branches?

on your morning walk, 

you break their trigger lines 

across the driveway

overnight hunters 

high in tree branches

weave the long dangling strands

some of the tree tunnel hosts 

wait on the end of a rope

others leave behind

a thread bridge discard

from a youngling that kited 

on a silk string

or hitched a balloon ride

to a new hunting ground

be a wary door bell ringer

if you don't want to get snared

guests presenting themselves for dinner

make a spider happy

*

No Smile

You don't appreciate a smile until you get Bell’s Palsy and can’t. People you know startle on meeting. Hummingbird-quick as a whirr, facial nerves don't work. The left brow can't lift. Your left eye doesn't wink. You use a finger to open or shut that eye. Wear a black patch. Can’t drink from a glass. Pinch your lips to hold a straw. Your mouth sags, food dribbles out on the left. Did this happen to the Phantom of the Opera? Can you join him in the cellar? You want to spit at the thief who stole your whistle but can't. 

https://www.mobap.edu/about-mbu/publications/cantos/

Date Published: March 15, 2026

migration season - Published by: Charlotte Digregorio's Writer's Blog, Daily Haiku Special, Feb. 19, 2026: Ingrid Bruck and Tanka Special with Kala Ramesh