Georganne Spruce

Published in Western North Carolina Woman, September 2005


Strong as mountains made me,

Carrying bushels of corn

Up the steep path

From the truck garden

Near the river,

Sitting on their front porches

Shucking the ears,

Balanced in the cradle

Of their cotton dresses.

Their voices, like birdsong,

Entwining melodies

With the autumn breeze.

Sitting beside them,

I touched the corn silk gently,

Wishing my hair

Were that shining golden color

Like a vision of forest faeries

Dancing beneath our chinaberry tree.

Holding the corn in my hands,

Feeling it was still alive

Though common sense told me

It couldn’t be,

Plucked from the stalk that way.

Gently, I peeled the outer skins away

Exposing the naked corn.

At night when the moon was full

I would lie awake

Floating in its light

As if balanced on the water

Of a cool mountain stream.

I had no questions formed to ask

But knew there were mysteries

Pulling at me in that cool light.

I knew my grandmother,

My mother too,

Knew the wisdom of the mountains

And the mysteries of the moon,

Though we never spoke of them.

April 1, 2013

Squirrelly Lessons

Dinner is at five for the squirrels in my yard.

They’re picky eaters, often ignoring

The piles of acorns covering the upper lawn,

Choosing instead to dig up winter’s buried

And left-over treasures.


Standing upright in their gray and white tuxedos

They seem so proper, neatly nibbling on one acorn

At a time, never arguing about whose it is,

Or if it’s organic or from a red or white oak

Or fallen into this yard from the neighbor’s.


Early in the morning when humans

Are still trying to open their eyes and fix the coffee,

My squirrelly friends are chasing each other

Up and down and around one tree after another

Dare devils, flying through space to the next tree’s branch.


I watch them defying gravity and common sense,

Envying the simplicity of their lives,

The joy of their play, and how they just go on,

Even on the day, the hawk appeared and fled

With one of them hanging from its talons.

“Damn You, Mother Nature”

Sharp wind and icy rain slash across my face,

My umbrella turns upside down,

Almost flying from my hand.

I want to shout “Damn you, Mother Nature,

What did you do with Spring?

Don’t you know we’ve had enough!”

She must be going through menopause,

Restless, quiet, and patient one moment

Raging the next like a warrior defending –

I don’t know what.  What it was,

Slips away, and the sun comes up

And the birds sing spring songs

And build nests and mate like they’ve never noticed

Nature was flipping out,

And I just sit here thinking

We women have our challenges, don’t we? 


2 responses to “Poetry

  1. Beautiful poetry! Thank you Georganne.

  2. Let us speak and know- in the silence. Beautiful and wonderful to be published.



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