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Ingrid Bruck


Itís raining nuts.
Oak and hickory trees surround a clapboard house
with a mahogany porch capped by a pine rail.
Acorns beat and tap in late summer,
percussion plays day and night.
They whack, crack, cascade down shingles,
sail in the air, thwack the deck, clink on slate,
ricochet off walls,
land with a whump in moss.
Snare, bass and timpani
strike out a beat in 3 and 9 time.
They pummel home, yard and driveway,
make a feast for crows, squirrels and moles.
Not long ago, this rain song meant bounty.
People would gather, soak and grind acorns,
now we crunch them under our feet
and resent them knocking on the roof.
Season tapers, song fades.
Oak trees beat one last roll
sending red-throated hummers south,
trees go silent when they leave.

This poem first appeared in Naturewriting (September, 2017).
Used here with permission.

Ingrid Bruck, a retired library director, lives in Pennsylvania, where she writes poetry, makes jam, grows wildflowers, and enjoys spending time with her three grandchildren.
She is the author of one chapbook, Finding Stella Maris (Flutter Press), and her work has appeared in a number of journals. Learn more about Ingrid at



Post New Comment:
Lovely, thoughtful piece--nostalgic, considering changes time has wrought
Posted 09/22/2020 10:49 AM
Lori Levy:
Great portrayal of the "raining nuts."
Posted 09/20/2020 06:03 PM
I love the sounds: "thwack the deck, clink on with a whump..." Fun poem to read!
Posted 09/20/2020 11:44 AM
Posted 09/20/2020 11:38 AM
I love the inclusion here: Not long ago, this rain song meant bounty./ People would gather, soak and grind acorns,
Posted 09/20/2020 11:26 AM
If April showers can rain violets, then Fall can rain nuts. Fun piece drumming around in my head now. Randy
Posted 09/20/2020 09:44 AM
Sharon Waller Knutson:
Clever amusing poem about the drumming nut band.
Posted 09/20/2020 09:15 AM
Larry Schug:
Wonderful, wonderful poem. These words capture the essence of autumn.
Posted 09/20/2020 07:12 AM

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