Friday Poem – Trust

Trust

Last night the deer were in my yard again.

Seven of them, pausing to look up

as I moved out onto the deck

with a quiet step, a slow smile.

They watched, still, before leaning down to eat again –

And this is what I know of trust –

It comes ever so slow, nearer

until what lies behind our eyes

may meet in the dusky air of evening

as cars race down the road behind us

and sirens ring in the distance.

These moments shared, noted

by no other souls than our own

linger in the air like the chime

which rings once, before

it is silent.

And though we turn back

to what we were doing

the connection holds

like an invisible thread

strong as a spider’s web

and just as easily missed by others.

But oh, how it may catch the light

To shimmer beneath the silvered moon

in the dark of night.

– by Debra Parmley
published in Twilight Dips http://www.amazon.com/Twilight-Dips-Debra-Parmley-ebook/dp/B00DQAG2AS/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1407361475&sr=8-1&keywords=twilight+dips

Wednesday Poem – Drought

Drought

The garden is crying out for rain,
my flowers drooping in the summer sun,
distressed and needing tenderness and care.
When I am in distress, I find
you quietly listening
as you read between the lines
in a way which no one else can do
and this often takes me by surprise.
It is your way, my dear,
to comfort with a tender word
which soaks into my soul.
I water the garden with the hose
and watch those droplets of water
soak down in
to disappear from sight
and it is in this moment that I know
what nurturing is.

 

Published in the poetry anthology Twilight Dips

http://www.amazon.com/Twilight-Dips-Debra-Parmley/dp/1482556057

Friday Poem – Easy

Easy

 

He bleeds so easily now.

The smallest cut will seep

like the Cumberland River below

as dark bruising spreads beneath

his loosened skin.

The river is forty foot low this year

because the damn is cracked

and repairs are estimated to take five years.

The path down to the dock is steep

and rocky slate shifts beneath our feet

but he will fall

before he lets me hold his elbow.

There is a line between

dignity and helplessness –

his words “not helpless” –

as if any aid implies

complete loss.

But perhaps he knows something I don’t.

How slippery the slope

and this is how he avoids

a Humpty Dumpty tumble –

I wash away the blood, clean the cuts

before covering them

with antibiotic cream and bandage

which must be replaced again

and again like a finger in the dike.

I run his shirt under cold water

so the blood won’t stain

and it runs red down

the drain, which flows into the septic

I’ve been told might overflow,

so many liquids threatening

like the darkest rain clouds outside

and oh how I used to be afraid of

thunder and lightning.

If I could wash away one thing

I would erase all trace of worry

from his mind

so he would be at ease and know

the letting go is fine,

his daughter strong enough

to catch, to hold

to release when it is time.

 

– Debra Parmley

Published in Twilight Dips.

http://www.amazon.com/Twilight-Dips-Debra-Parmley/dp/1482556057

 

Friday Poem – Grand Canyon

Grand Canyon

 

The wind was blowing

Strong

Fine particles of sand

We were covered in it.

Dust of the ages

From layers way down

Gritty and soft.

The sun was shining

Warm

Casting shadows of light

Over all of us.

Sun of the ages

Illumination of all things

Comfort and discomfort

I had forgotten that I depend

On you for life.

The canyon was layered

Color upon color

Shades of red and orange.

Layers of the ages

Story of the earth

Birth and death

Contained within these lines

Indians came here.

The Great Spirit

Would speak to them

Spirit of the ages

Creator of all

Containing us

I had forgotten until

I came here

To be reminded.

 

– Debra Parmley

Published in the poetry anthology Twilight Dips

http://www.amazon.com/Twilight-Dips-Debra-Parmley/dp/1482556057

Wednesday Poem – After My Father Visits

After My Father Visits

 

After my father visits

he leaves behind

the scent of his cologne

which lingers on the towels

of the guest bath

where his false teeth rested

with his travel pill case counting out

the days he can’t remember.

The scent lingers in the guest bedroom

where he sleeps under the quilt

his mother made, which holds

pieces of his old pajamas,

blue teddy bears

which I sometimes run my fingers across

with a smile.

 

– Debra Parmley

Published in the poetry anthology Twilight Dips

 

http://www.amazon.com/Twilight-Dips-Debra-Parmley/dp/1482556057