Friday Poem – 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


Wednesday Poem – 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

Friday Poem – 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.