December 2023
Bio Note: I've been reading more EcoLit and spiritual ecology lately. I like to build nature altars and often write nature poems of thanks (or lament). The example of indigenous people gives me hope that its possibke to live in peace on this fragile web we share. Some current work appears in The Skinny, Your Daily Poem and Verse-Virtual.
Bright Blue Sky
The wind unravels
a lone white billow
through a shredder.
Ice crystals flow
in a cloudless sky.
The day, uncast to gray,
changes back to murky blue.
Is that mist?
Or smoke?
It's easy to mistake mist
for smoke
from Canada forest fires.
Where have the bright blue days
of childhood gone?
After Tropical Storm Ophelia
restless sea spray lifts
into the yawning
expanse of the deep…
The wind blows,
silver lipped crackle shimmers.
Waves pound and spew,
cold rolls, foam flies.
Airborne salt bites noses,
wet sand stings faces
and knots hair.
Mizzle trickles sand down necks,
into socks, grinds on shoes.
The ocean follows inside—
sodden pants and sweatshirt
weigh three pounds heavier.
At Point Pleasant Beach,
closed windows whistle,
crashes and booms pierce through,
shadows quiver and quake
in the apartment.
I wake in the night
to surf thunder
in my bed.
Wayward
A vagrant breeze
plays hopscotch
in the backyard.
The wind lifts
a single branch,
its leaves rise and fall
like an old woman's sigh.
One wayward oakleaf
on the end of the limb
dances to a different beat.
It spins a pirouette
and then unwinds,
just like a singing button on a string.
©2023 Ingrid Bruck
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