Editor’s note: This commentary is by Tom Slayton, who is editor emeritus of Vermont Life and the author of “Sabra Field: The Art of Place,” and “Searching for Thoreau: On the Trails and Shores of Wild New England.”

Scudder Parkerโ€™s life โ€” remarkably varied, yet remarkably unified, is reflected in his new book of poems, “Safe As Lightning.”

Parker is well known in central Vermont, since at least some of his various careers โ€” as state senator, candidate for governor, and Protestant minister โ€” have been largely public. Heโ€™s also been a utility regulator, an energy consultant, and has now begun a retirement career as a poet. Add in his roles as husband, grandfather, nature observer and passionate gardener, and itโ€™s fair to say that he is a man of many parts.

And just about all of these aspects of his life are encapsulated in this new book of poems, just published by Rootstock Publishing of Montpelier.

His subjects are as plain and simple as the meteorite he found a half-century ago in a North Danville brook, or as complex as his feelings as he sits beside his dying mother, โ€œโ€ฆ rubbing her hand in our increasingly/ companionable silence โ€ฆโ€

Parker is a careful and accomplished connoisseur of nature, and his poems often skillfully weave what he sees with what he knows and what he feels as he watches a blue-headed vireo or is lost in treetop-filtered sunlight. He mentions specific Vermont locations from time to time, as in โ€œMoose Bog,โ€ where Island Pond is mentioned. Parkerโ€™s father had begun his preaching career there some 60 years ago, when: โ€œโ€ฆ The once thriving village was collapsing like a pumpkin in November โ€ฆโ€

The poem continues:

โ€œToday a band of Christians in plain dress,
private, with a message that demands
belief, runs most businesses in town โ€ฆโ€

It ends in the nearby bog of its title, which offers echoes of religion, but seems somehow more profound:

โ€œNo creature here is prospering or seeking
righteousness, just doing what they can
the way they learned since the last glacier.โ€

Public aspects of his various careers are not specifically mentioned here; rather, Parker explores his subjects through his internal observations and reflections. 

In โ€œPreacher Visits,โ€ he notes a parishionerโ€™s obsession with mechanics, the yard cluttered with automobile detritus, and admits, humorously: โ€œMy friend talked car improvement till my mind stuck in neutral โ€ฆโ€ 

Gently, compassionately, Parker notes:
โ€œIn the kitchen where floor sagged toward
rotting sill, violets thrived, faucet squealed;
the coffee was delicious. I was learningโ€”
just companionship, nothing to be healed โ€ฆโ€

And he ultimately manages to convince his parishioner to come to church Christmas Eve, where the man sings โ€œwith untethered beauty at the service,โ€ even though  โ€œโ€ฆ plans for the Camaro gave him more relief.โ€

This is not a collection of easy emotional triumphs. In one poem, Parker specifically says that he doesnโ€™t want to be remembered for  โ€œโ€ฆ tidy unclean fictions …,โ€ and in others he admits that anger, sadness, and forgetfulness are common experiences for him. Thus, he expresses the deep complexity any human being must know if they are honest about their internal life. 

His subjects are wide-ranging: youthful memories in North Danville, family connections and celebrations, nature in just about every season, daily events, Vermont experiences at places like an Old Home Day parade, and the Whammy Bar in Maple Corner, neighbors and friends, his marriage, and his religious beliefs. He often sketches a depiction of the place or event, then goes on to explore or ruminate on his subject, pushing through the surface to give a sense of the deeper structures and issues beneath: the divine hiding in the ordinary.

Not every one of these poems is a complete success. Sometimes Parkerโ€™s final lines, in attempting a capping comment, change or deflate the mood previously established.

But he often succeeds deftly and effectively, as in โ€œThe Poem of the World,โ€ which he writes:

โ€œReveals itself
like a doeโ€™s hoof tapping ice
till she can drink โ€ฆ.โ€

There are plenty of fine poems here, many beautifully realized, and together they offer the reader a unified vision, casting a light on the many aspects of a complex life deeply considered.

Pieces contributed by readers and newsmakers. VTDigger strives to publish a variety of views from a broad range of Vermonters.