Wooded Paradise
When the hills of Brown county beckon you to the pie in the sky on a plate,
Come to the jewel in the crown of the Hoosier state.
There to be explored and adored from Bean Blossom to Gnaw Bone
And … If you fall in love you’re not alone.
Lookin’ for the arts or Indian lore?
Trek through the village go for a stroll,
For surely Brown County is a picnic for your soul.
Travel through a historic covered bridge
Survey meandering vines growing on a ridge.
Take a morning hike in the misty fog to a place that’s clear
There you just might see a bobcat or white-tail deer.
Discover a quaint ivy-covered cabin nestled in a secret hollow
A ribbon of smoke
An evening star lead to a trail to follow.
Sound the alarm call for a Hoosier conglomeration
Let every spirit know there is an emerald city
A magical exploration.
Come be a part of the hills and hollows, the brooks and forests, the crafts, the food, the people, the rugged countryside — Oh my!
When it’s time to leave this wooded paradise and your heart is beating in sync with a mountain dulcimer or Native American flute
Keep your map handy and your most adventurous boots.
These hills of brown are now your new roots.
— Judith Barrett Nulf, Delphi
Looking Back
Remember the day when terror struck?
When the enemy invaded our U.S.A.?
Or has it faded from our memories —
The tragedy that shook our world that day.
The loss of loved ones still lingers there
In the lives of those left behind
Those heartaches will never go away —
Nor the mem’ries of hundreds never found.
Remember how we watched with awe
We could hardly believe it was true —
Our America attacked before our very eyes
All within clear view.
Oh, the cries and screams of terror
As loved ones fell to the ground
Standing helpless we watched through tears
Thick clouds of smoke and death all around
Does it grieve our hearts for those who suffered?
Are we still on our knees today?
It could happen again if we forget —
And ignore our reason to pray.
We must never lose hope of His protection
With the freedoms as they used to be
If we stay faithful we’ll service through prayer,
A nation under God — on our knees.
— Goldie Gartin, Nashville
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
An Abbey Day
Stone walls encircle the Abbey grounds
and 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
Silence
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:
Silence
— 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 [email protected] or mailing to P.O. Box 277, Nashville, IN 47448.
Include your name and town of residence.
