Limberlost Poems

Poems by Rosemary Freedman

Limberlost

She's stood I am sure in the
spot you're now standing.
Close your eyes for one minute
and imagine her handing
a specimen of moth, a geode, a feather.
She's made a cord, not a tether,
that draws us all here
to a place we like most.
Can you feel her around us?
Like an earth hearty ghost?
The moths even keep
their eyes on her and on us.
She's the trees only shadow.
The wind's forceful gust.
She was solemn, but funny.
She filled each day with lovely.
She has colored each one of us in
like moth photos,
the ghost of her making us real.
Gene Stratton Porter,
Girl of the Limberlost,
your birds and your moths
​are watching you still.


Ave Flora
For Gene Stratton-Porter

If birds became her mother
then one could not be enough.
They're here by the fireplace
in the trees with a puff.

In the morning fog
their symblos and screeches.
They speak to her softly,
perhaps chide at her breeches.

But wat can they do
with a language that languishes?
They caw at her loudly
when she's frightened or anguishes.

And how does she know really 
what they were saying?
And did they look in on her when
at night she lay laying?

And though she seemed happy
ever chasing the wild  
did we know of her grief as
a motherless child?

Like a girl with a lantern
she carried her ladder.
In search of the earth
and the things she thought mattered.

Oh, she had fancy things,
like a necklace and flowers,
but her brother Laddie's drowning
could restrain her for hours.

She pursued the earth daily
like a hearty addiction
to fill up the gape,
the lost mother affliction.

So, when birds' black eyes turned
or the orange eye of the owl
to look in upon her
with smile or with scowl

I think she accepted, but how could I know.
They were surrogate replacements
during heat, rain and snow.
They flew in the house.
They stared through the casements.

Though I've never met her
somehow, feel she's a sister
and when I arrive at the Limberlost
there's a sense I've just missed her.


Loblolly Marsh

Wait, there's a memory coming.
I recall I was there.
I worked as a hired woman,
Combing your hair.
And you got mad for an instant 
Cause I pulled on a tangle.
I can see you all differently now from this angle.
You spent up your energy
Through climates cold, sweet and harsh
Getting lost on the think of things
At the Loblolly Marsh.


Poems by Ethan Pieples (Age 6)

Daddy Long legs and a baby Spider.
They have skinny legs,
like the skinny arms of people.
At night they read about other daddy long legs
who live in China,
Their cousins they will have to travel to meet.
They have bugs for dinner.
I love them.

The Twirling Leaf

The twirling leaf
twirls by a web
yellow and gold.


I am a Buckeye

I look blackish-purple.
People pick me up.
I can tell they are
Lucky when they find me.
I am so lucky.
People put me in their 
pockets.
I travel with them
the rest of their life.
They feel my reassuring
smoothness.

Poems by Cameron Pieples (age 4)

I'm Swimming to get a Starfish.
I grabbed it.
I flew into the sky,
and I got it.
I love it, it looks
so pink.
It feels like a bumpy road.    


I am a Red Caterpillar   

I ask why are those people
playing with playdough.
I walk on the brick wall. I'm fast.
People think I'm fast.
I am red like Ethan's shirt.

John Brenner's cane leans,
resting at table edge,
leaning like John leaned into it's tree limb strength,
to check stock of fireplace wood,
water garden,
water horses.

John Brenner's cane rests,
but waits,
like John waited,
for invitation,
supplication,
to make pilgrimage
for Poplar branch,
moth's dinner,
procuring a fitting host plant
for winged inspiration
of hostess.

John Brenner's cane,
a resting limb,
branch of tree for holding him,
third leg,
hewn limb of twin limb,
still holding fast to tree,
that even at rest can cradle birdhouse
that cradles nest.

...birdhouse,
lovingly crafted by John,
devoted architect,
builder,
of houses for Gene's feathered kin,
and her feathered dreams.
The Little Bird Woman sees her plans cradled,
and tended,
as she leans,
on him,
as he leans.
Both cradled in the love of the Limber-lost,
where so much is found. 

John Brenner's cane rests,
While frog chorus reverberates,
bird song elucidates,
cicadas pulse,
deer seek running streams,
raccoons scamper and sway and chatter.

All this a welcome song that soothes the nerves
worn raw, 
raw made of the same sound bites,
alphabet letters,
as war,
marching forward,
or backward.

Battle cried
and guns fired,
in another unCivil War.
John had enlisted,
August 15, 1862,
side by side with Joseph Aspey,
musician,
who might have tried to imitate nature's songs
for Company D,
who might already intuit,
seek the soothing,
of the Eden nurtured by Gene.

Gene, who forever mourned the loss of one butterfly,
with crushed wing,
inadvertently maimed in reflexive grasp
of falling,
became nature's pacifist,
leaving gaps in walls,
where all may pass through.
Where Light is always welcome.
Where John Brenner's cane rests. 

Friends of the Limberlost and Friends of Ouabache State Park were pleased to host the Indiana Master Naturalist 2017 Gathering on October 6-7. We thank all that attended. We hope you will come back to the Land of Limberlost.

The Limberlost pre-trip on Friday was a visit to an Amish School and an Amish midwife's home and her birthing rooms.  It is an honor to be invited into the Amish community. The "scholars" and their teacher Benjamin were welcoming. Questions were asked and answered, songs were sung, making it an enjoyable visit. We learned that one of our IMN volunteers at the Oliver Mansion and that Benjamin uses an Oliver plow. Besides teaching, Benjamin is a farmer and bird watcher.

Friday evening, Friends of the Ouabache hosted a dinner and bison hike. Jody Heaston gave a great talk on the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) at Ouabache State Park. The park has one of the CCC "Iron Mike" statues. The fire tower was saved and is slated to be restored over the winter. These two projects have been achieved due to the hard work of the Friends of the Ouabache. The evening finished with Adrienne Provenzano "Songstress of the Limberlost" performing.

Saturday morning started with chimney swifts flying over the Limberlost Visitor Center while the early hikers were gathering. Naturalist Curt Burnette led an early hike at the Music of the Wild preserve. Gene Stratton-Porter wrote part of her book Music of the Wild about this area.

Ken Brunswick, retired East Central Ecologist, wrote a book called "The Limberlost Born Again." Ken had a special book signing and enjoyed meeting IMN from around the state. 

The day included a program on Gene Stratton-Porter by Site Manager Nicky Ball, a tour of the Limberlost Cabin by Randy Lehman, a program on Moths by Willy DeSmet. Hikes at the Loblolly Marsh were led by East Central Ecologist Ben W. Hess and Naturalist Curt Burnette. 

A highlight of the day was lunch on the beautifully restored 1860 Ceylon Covered Bridge. It was a perfect day for lunch on the bridge and a walk at Rainbow Bottom. 

Melissa Fey arranged a nice ending to the day with a program by Floyd Leichty at the Clock Tower and a tour of the Mennonite Church in Berne.