Look Outside
Sunlight is white
Emanating from
A ball behind a veil that
Covers everything
Might take dissolution
Some going away
Before real colors return
C L Couch
By Nick Nijhuis – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=47363213
Idealism
I think I should start a new book today
And maybe dare to eat a peach
I don’t know about significance
I think it’s in my cup of coffee
And when I can sit with someone
Share the drink
Part of the day
Then the increase in meaning is
Exponential
I’m sorry it’s not more profound
Or that I haven’t a mightier metaphor
The sun’s come out; it’s pale blue
My favorite color
Today, I’d rather know yours
Trusting it’s green or
Yellow or
Something wonderfully different
We use what we believe
We go for something better, each time
At least, I hope we do
I’m stuck with my words, I guess
And nothing smarter
I’d say I’d share
But I didn’t make any of them
We trade in what was made already
Long ago and new each time
(what was that formula for n?)
It’s a little bluer
A little greener, too
It’s cold; it’s January
A new combination for the day
A day we haven’t filled in yet
How about that?
Let’s go
C L Couch
blue and green gradient
Nywillb – Own work, CC0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=67032853
Younger
Once I went out west
Well, twice I guess
The first time I was two
I do have memories
I dreamed about the second time
Last night
Only I went there now
Knowing what I knew
So that I might avoid mistakes
And, you now, I did
I’ve heard it said I wouldn’t change a thing
I would change so many things
Sometimes to thwart agenda
Mostly to get it right
To keep the pain from happening
So much
If that would daunt a butterfly or upset
The schedule of tsunami,
Then it’s good I don’t have the talent
But I would like to fox many things
Or preventively
Offer something better in the first place
For all concerned
Color me uninteresting
I would dull the pain
Treat the wound by having it
Not happen
C L Couch
https://pixabay.com/en/cacti-flora-flowers-pot-pot-plants-1846147/
Life in the Hermitage
I know I teach too much
Old habit
Sometimes it’s prophecy, but
The voice is mine
I don’t speak with any authority
Come down, or come up,
From God
Sometimes I think certain things belong
Together
That’s poetry
I washed a few dishes in my small sink
I looked into the new year’s sky
It’s gray
That seems right
A January pallet
C L Couch
Photo by Craig Whitehead on Unsplash
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