Susanne von Rennenkampff

Susanne von Rennenkampff is a long-time farmer and gardener in north-central Alberta, Canada. She takes her inspiration from the natural world and her travels. Her poems have appeared in literary magazines in Canada and the US, among them Grain, Prairie Fire, Room, The Antigonish Review and recently Evening Street Review. 

After Coming Upon an Oak Bluff in Saskatchewan, Brushing Ants off My Legs

There is so much we don’t expectwhen we set out.
We see clouds reflected in puddlesin the morning when we pull the blinds, dread the dreariness of another rainy day,discouraged because the world iswhat it is, however much we want it to be different. 
For a while we fool ourselves, imagine we matter, at leastto our mothers, our children,a handful of friends, a lover, the dog,until, one by one, they move away, or die,or come back from long journeyschanged and silent, holding conversationswith ghosts we’ve never met. 
Meanwhile we’ve been staring at the same reflectionin still another puddle, believewe know about suffering, our ownand of those we love. 
One morning we find ourselvesat the top of a hillwe didn’t know we’d climbeduntil we gaze into a valley, warm breeze stirringthe dry leaves at our feet.

Ephemeral

Sometimes, climbing a steep hillthat takes your breath awayand causes your heart to do its odd thing,a voice tells you to stop, right there. 
You think you were meant to catch your breathuntil you raise your eyes from the trail with its writhing roots, needle-covered schist:Like an apparition soft pink flags of Calypsos shimmer above the entrance to the marbled cave of their throats, yellow-bristled welcome matsinviting bees and bumble beeslured to pollinate by this beauty alone.
In the description, these plants are called ephemeral,suggesting regret. For me, the beauty lingers, my being caught off guard, my heart, I now see, even on the steep hill already opening.
There are so many wayswe can survive.

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