CWD
for my dad, Clif W Drummond
Hello, Poetry Friend
Today is my dad’s birthday, the man known to various family members as Dad, Tio, Chatito, Buddy, Uncle Bud, and even Uncle Bug. If he were still here, he would be 82. The last two-and-a-half years of his life he lived next door.
Dad and Ace talk turkey
Last year I shared in a post titled “Who let the dogs out?” about how, on the day of my dad’s funeral, my terriers had their own agenda. I quoted from my first published poem, written when I was in seventh grade. Thanks to my mom, who knew the owners of our local weekly paper, it ended up on the front page of the Westlake Picayune.
Yes, it is August 20, not December 20, but I listen to Christmas music year-round, and so here is my somewhat schmaltzy story, written in rhyming couplets. It’s a poem that now reads like prophecy.
Clap for me, because I restrained myself and corrected absolutely nothing.
A Visit of Charity
published Wednesday, December 19, 1984
Westlake Picayune, vol. 9, no. 31
Austin, Texas, 50 cents
'Twas the day before Christmas, and I feeling blue.
sat propped on my sofa, wondering what to do.
My presents were bought and lay beneath the tree,
While friends much too busy disdained time with me.
The weather outside was quite nippy and cold
But with a warm fire I wasn't too low.
I finished my chocolate and then lay back down
To enjoy a quick rest without trouble or sound.
I soon was awakened from sleep with a start
As the rings of a phone stirred up my calm heart.
The voice on the line was unsteady with fright
As it said, "Come down soon, for I need you tonight!
"An elderly lady is tucked up in bed
"With a pain in her heart and a cold in her head.
"Be sure you bring food and blankets and such
"For though she is caring, her house lacks so much."
I flew about quickly gathering all I'd need.
Though my body ached for sleep, I paid it no heed.
I jumped into my car and drove off so fast
That all of the city just blurred as I passed.
I screeched to a halt as I reached her front door,
Then abruptly stopped, as my heart beat no more.
I seemed a little reluctant to go right on in,
Although I'd done this same thing time and again.
Upon reaching the door, I knocked and called, "Hi!"
But nary an answer could be heard from inside.
As I pushed on the door my eyes grew quite wide
At the sight they beheld on the star-filled night.
The house seemed desolate, and almost was bare
Except for a bed, table, kitchen and chairs.
Nothing looked like it had been cleaned in weeks
And strong, dusty odors made things smell and reek.
In the corner of this dark and dreary house
Lay a very sick woman, quiet as a mouse.
I hurried to the bed and said with a smile,
"If you like, I'll stay here and help you awhile."
The only answer was a nod and a grin
So having my task, I began work again.
I ran to the kitchen, singing as I went
So glad to offer the helping hand I lent.
The sink was scrubbed, the dishes washed till they shone
Some lovely flowers set in a vase that was my own.
I dusted the cobwebs off the old wooden chairs
And the smell of home-cooking soon filled the air.
I then reappeared, meal and blankets in hand
And served to the woman a feast she thought grand.
I silently watched as she ate all her fill
And ws quite surprised when she turned and said at will
"My dearest girl, I thank you so very much
"For doing this for me with your sweet gentle touch.
"I've waited so long for someone to come
"And add love and warmth to this place I call home.
"You've made this day the merriest for me of all
"And I pray God will bless you for answering my call."
And in the silence before Christmas 'morn,
the old woman smiled, breathed her last, and was gone."
–Megan Drummond (Willome)
Happy poeming!
Megan
Wow.