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April 2020

We’ll Burn the Palms for Next Year’s Ash

We’ll Burn the Palms for Next Year’s Ash

 

Today is Palm Sunday.  I recall this because I saw,

just now, an image with two pieces of wood, tied and

at an angle.  I suppose many are celebrating—feasting,

in fact, since it is the end of Lent—the way I am but

with honest hearts.

 

Lent is done, although the days of ash continue.  Nothing

new for planet Earth and the people of it.  What do we

know of ash but that it’s final in remembrance?

We might take the stuff and try to rework it, but what it means

remains the same.  We are of ash.  We’ve tasted it.

 

We try to contain it, though it’s mischievous in

blowing around.  Where does that wind come from?

“Dust in the wind.” “Turn, turn, turn.”  Every generation asks

the question, needs an answer, doesn’t get one.

There is ash.  It’s everywhere.  We think it’s dust, though we’ll never

clear it out.  We can’t.  As I say with all the singers,

 

it is us.  We are ash.

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Niklas Tidbury on Unsplash

This was a picture I took just for fun. One of those “that would look cool”-moments. I only realised the contrast between the new, fresh, ready-to-burn wood and the spent ashes of a campfire, like the wood was ready to meet its maker. Kinda sad actually.

 

This begins a week-long devotional, “Holey Week.”  The title is intentionally spelled.

 

6

Modern Times

Modern Times

 

We’re wearing down

The machine is tired of its gears

And certain teeth are broken

Threatening the sprockets

We’re not talking factories

They can belch forever,

So it seems

It’s our industry that’s on the line

The kind that makes relationships

With flesh and with metal

That makes our efforts viable

 

It takes fuel, cereal in the morning

Tea in the afternoon

Sympathy for sibling feelings

Openness for a surprise

Should evening come

With newness in the night

 

It isn’t entropy, just yet

We still have flesh

And boundaries

The universe isn’t done with us

It expands but is so far from

Dissolution

 

Find a reason, then

To keep it going,

The cosmos for a day

With our place inside

 

C L Couch

 

 

Modern Times is a 1936 American silent comedy film written and directed by Charlie Chaplin in which his iconic Little Tramp character struggles to survive in the modern, industrialized world.

(Wikipedia)

 

Photo by Jonathan Borba on Unsplash

 

 

0

Crazy Boy

Crazy Boy

(get cool)

 

Cattails

One word

Cat tails

Two words

When referring to the actual

Cat’s tail

Don’t pull at it

Cattails might not hit back

Cats with tails do

They should

 

That’s as much advice

As I have for you

My head hurts

And my nose

Yippee-allergens

I know they could be the other thing

I’m hot from moving things around

And I wish I had all my pills

In this uncertain time

 

There’s sun today

I hear the virus doesn’t like the sun

If it had preferences

But also doesn’t like cool weather

So my MidAtlantic spring might be

Salubrious for a time

 

Cool, sunny days?

I could wish them ‘round the world

For health’s sake

Light for buoyancy

Of skin and spirit

Enough cold, not too much,

To relax our ninety-eight degrees or so

Inside

 

C L Couch

 

 

recently, I read about the sun and about cold air in two different places where I think crazy people do not write or otherwise contribute

I am not a doctor and don’t play one on television

 

“Cool” by Leonard Bernstein

 

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

Fenton, United States

 

3

This Is Our Story

This Is Our Story

 

Finally, there’s wind

The static air can move at last

It could be a carrier

Or a cleansing thing

But with sunshine christening

We’re hopeful it’s the latter

We need good days

 

And how idle does that sound

Imagining the waiting rooms

The wards, the angled beds

All the suffering from symptoms

It is a ministry of comfort

Nothing more though that is great

For now

And perilous

 

The problem with the anodyne

Is that it’s ancient hope

And little more

There is no easy cure

And for now there is not an uneasy one

Our prayers and thoughts

Seem not enough

Not to mention less than nothing from

Ones who utter them through angry

Or indifferent mouths

 

Against instead the real need

Some liquid in a tube

Delivered by a needle, disassembling

The cohorts of the virus

Well, we can think and pray for this

And these

With others or the silence

Of our closets

Asking to bless

All workers who pursue the

Necessary, healing good

 

There seems little else to say

No other topic pressing

It is a time of plague

Optimism notwithstanding

On all our houses

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Tom Rumble on Unsplash

Melbourne, Australia

The light was fading as I was flying the Mavic back from another shoot and the symmetry of these streets caught my eye. Love me some long afternoon shadows.

 

10

And Can It Be

And Can It Be

 

And can it be

That on a day when the sun

Shines somewhere behind clouds

Basking indifferently above horizons

That the industrious

And inventive

Will find a way

So that, as she says,

All shall be well

 

The hazelnut she sees as the world

Will crack, the softness inside

Exuding into earth

To make the world anew

Two parts come together, then

 

Nature and ourselves

Nature and nature

We could be allies

We could protect each other

Let air

And ground,

Let blue and green,

Let wildness and cultivation be

 

Admit mistakes on all affected sides

Find solutions that

Don’t kill but use the planet well,

First things first

But never only

I wish it could be a simple song

But the harmony must be

Complex,

Composition worked out carefully

Remembering to consult

With the conductor

 

It is a vision

That can happen

She saw this

The touchstones matter

We can find our own

Use our words

Apply our talents well

So that all, as she ways,

Shall be well

 

And can it be

A healthy alliance with the cosmos

And productive

I believe you know

It must be

 

C L Couch

 

 

Image by LoggaWiggler from Pixabay

 

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