A Tribute to Nashville
Down in them southern hills
Trickling down from Yankeeland
Like water through a seive
Down in them southern hills of Indiana
S’where I hope to live.
You see these streets hold a promise
of enchantment that fulfills
On fluttered wings of seagulls.
These forested hills and hollows
Caress you whilst you make yourself
At home on every trail and follow.
When the evening star makes her light
Appear to give a weary soul some rest.
Up-and-early risers catch the
Morning’s bluish haze
Awakens to have another day be blessed.
This the place the gypsy spirit feels the most home
It’s in this wooded paradise alone.
As easily as a leaf to find
Romantic vagabond moments stay forever in my mind.
— Judi Nulf, Delphi
Spirits of Home
It was Labor Day weekend, 2011, 90 degrees and heading for 100. Steamy and sticky, we were sent back to the 1920s, on the front porch of the house on Jefferson Street. Old friends gathered to fill the idle time. The spirit of the rustic souls who lived here before came alive in us. So we spun the stories and jokes and memories. Somehow, those moments set our hearts at ease, and we were at home and a part of this lovely place of childhood and past lives — an opening of a door to another time. A stranger walked by and heard us laughing and looked at us and smiled. She could see we were happy to be where we wanted to be. Where we should be. Where we have to be. And like the spirits from before, where we will always be.
— Robbie Bowden, Brown County
An Abbey Day
Stone walls encircle the Abbey groundsand hold us in, not by force
but by our own agreeable sure-will
I sit, barely moving, making notes
An elderly woman is reading;
her cane beside her chair
This is the treasured place for silence;
listening only to a touch of still-voiced breeze
Circling clouds contemplate their next move;
dispatched on a journey they can not predict
Tree leaves cup upward;
toward the clouds of Puritan-white
The mind of each tree settles on its purpose;
standing rigid, anticipating the summer shower
Whenever the clouds find their fluid voice:
— Normajean MacLeod, Brown County
Written on retreat at the Abbey of Our Lady of Gethsemane
Brown County residents or former residents can submit original poems to be published in Poets’ Corner by emailing them to firstname.lastname@example.org or mailing to P.O. Box 277, Nashville, IN 47448.
Include your name and town of residence.