Sally Strachan’s Garden
By Ilse Kramer
There is a field of daisies,
So white, so without stain,
So flawless,
Nothing torn, all petals present.
Only the centers are blond,
Almost the color
Of Princess
Diana’s hair.
I see clematis in various colors,
They dance in the wind
And make me think
Of my long-ago prom.
Do the black-eyed susans
Want to be picked?
I look into their deep dark eyes
And I kiss them instead.
In the corner, in the mysterious shadows,
A touch of sweet wilderness.
I gather some nettles,
I hear they make wonderful tea.
Squirrels are jumping
From fence to tree, from fence to tree and from tree to fence,
And the little birds sing:
God bless America.
Let us gather
Some happiness.
Ilse Kramer
Ilse wrote her first verse, a sentimental jingle, in Germany in first grade. She eventually progressed to sonnets, hexameter, haiku, and acrostics. Her first English poem, “Interpretation,” 1963, won second prize in a poetry exhibition. Some of her poetry has been published in a literary magazine, the Providence Journal, Central News, and in anthologies.
Ilse has also published a bibliography of early German Americana at Brown University, and a novel, Pimpinella.
Portrait of a gardener: Sally Strachan and her postcard-size garden met each other in the summer of 2002. Over 13 years, the two companions have nurtured soil, praised sun and rain, and spoken in loving whispers to plants, birds, and wildlife. They treasure visitors and easily share secrets of the garden beyond the gate.