Two poems by Jeannie E. Roberts

Butternuts    

                                                                    

It was here,

near the stream,

under pinnate-shaped

leaves, where

I'd collect them,

where they'd amass

in my basket, brim

by the bushel.  It was

here, in the Octobers

of my youth, beneath

the white walnut,

where I found hundreds

of butternuts.  Some

fell in clusters, others

one by one.  And now,

while I hold this memory,

I wonder, had I thought

to harvest the nuts

for candy, to boil

the rinds for dye? 

Or perhaps

I'd been prompted

by an echo, answered

a ten-thousand-year-old

call.  Whatever

the urge, clearly

I liked to collect,

to gather, as I did

fossils, four-leaf

clovers, rocks

and, later in life,

men, especially

the fallen ones,

the ones I deemed

in need of rescue— 

quite like those

butternuts:

abundantly culled,

heedfully hulled,

only to discover

that most were rotten.

Four-leafing at Age Eight                                                                    

In summer

when life

hummed

with a frenzy

when buzzing

brewed

over clover

when flowers

spilled

with the bumbling

of bees

I'd seek

with a purpose

hand-sweep

along surface

past purple

toward leaflets

of green. 

Where wide

I'd patrol 

comb valley

search knoll

knee-walk

bee talk

my way

all this

for a good luck

bouquet.

Born in Minneapolis, Minnesota, Jeannie E. Roberts is the author of two books, including the newly released Nature of it All, a collection of poems (Finishing Line Press).  Her poetry has appeared in several publications, including Verse Wisconsin.  Her public readings include Weidner Center for the Performing Arts, Wisconsin Public Radio and other venues.  Jeannie lives with her husband and golden doodle in Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin, USA.  For more, visit www.jrcreative.biz