Sunday, August 7, 2011

Lake Home

You always invited me out for a swim.

We were good friends.

You opened your world to me

and taught me many things.

We’d share stories

and told each other secrets.

Along the bank with our buckets full,

you showed me all the castles you built

and the tiny universe that could be found

in just one cosmic handful of ancient mud.

Your pail always held more than mine.

But you said it was so you’d have all

the more to give. Those were your

memories.

And after emerging from deep

sea green netherworlds, I’d curl up

in the boat tied at the dock, listening

to the song of the tide

as you lulled me to sleep.

I have waited years for our reunion

and enter once more into the waves,

your depths, my sea, your world,

my home.


Copyright by Cindy Parker, 2009

The Song of Eleanor Foulkes

Lord…when will it end?

Will it end?

Three more have succumbed to the plague

and have been delivered into the heart

of the sea.

Will any of us survive?

Will any of us see land again?

Our tears mingle with the salt in the wind.

We are one and the same.

And we all return to the sea.

Remember us.

In Your providence, remember us.


To the ends of this new world,

will I go with you, my love, son of Rhirid,

wolf on this sea of battle.

Even if we, like Madoc, should pass

into the waves, never to return.

Ah, but no, my dear, for surely as it was given

to him to discover America, so shall we too

discover it for ourselves.


And my darlings, let hope belong to you.

Let it rule all of your hearts.

Another land awaits, along with those

who have sailed onto it before us.

They will be there to welcome you

to New Wales, your home.

But remember who you are,

sons and daughters of Merionethshire.


Teach it to your children.

Let them not forget they are the children

of the lords and knights of Gwynedd.


Copyright by Cindy Parker, 2009

Saturday, August 6, 2011

Winter Gardens

Frozen crust of snow cracks and caves

beneath her boots. In wooden box sled

riding down the slope, deep lines form

in Old Man Winter’s face
 

as she makes him laugh. She climbs

back up and slides back down. Red

twig dogwoods catch her at the bottom

of the hill. In wintry marsh


snow groans beneath my boots.

Cocoon of ice dazzling in bright noon

envelops gray branches, light of sun

drips down upon the earth.


Leaves emerge from trees,

like green wings unfolding.


Copyright by Cindy Parker, 2009

Friday, August 5, 2011

Neope

Oh my very great Grandmother,

I have sifted through the strata

of history you are buried within


looking for you. Perhaps you

will be the one who finds me,

here in the land of Hiawatha


and Petosegay. And far south

of the playground of Mishipeshu’s

children. Your name dances


in my wondering, a mystery

like a butterfly uncaptured

and whose journey ends


with the snow. Spring

is worth the trek. And heaven’s

lamp glows. Come then


to the land where ambered

water falls. Come.


Copyright by Cindy Parker, 2009

Thursday, August 4, 2011

The Kingfisher / tetractys

The Kingfisher

He
perches
in quiet
dominion. And
with indigo flashes, strumming his wings
 against the air, he hovers, then descends,
threads the water,
needles a
minnow
meal.


Copyright by Cindy Parker, 2009