Momentous
(moment, momentary, memento)
The Earth is leaning
We mark the
Solstice
Though we don’t feel the angle
Any more than
We feel our portion of
The arc of Earth
Yet we note things
And there is
Change
To see us through perceptions
To help us grow
Through seasons
As
The seasons
Sleep
Plant
Grow
Sickle then
Sleep again
And so we lean
So we live
So we lean in
To living
C L Couch
Photo by Christoph Theisinger on Unsplash
a few lines as if in part above the abbey
a few lines of nature
and of God
looking outside
nothing
grand to see
with no majestic sound
rather
the grandness and the majesty
are in the small networks
of the branches
dark tendrils
once the vessels of green leaves
then shall all be green again
after three months
when green
shall
smally
grandly
majestically
overwhelm impending gray
again
that is nature
and is God
the work
at least
in lines
of
seasons’ prophecy
c l couch
photo by Brussel Banda on Unsplash
Each Resurrection
Into the ground
The flesh of us
Organs inside the shell
Even
The ash of us
Return
Because the story goes
We came from there
And in that way
And
Exceptions notwithstanding
Must go back
It doesn’t end
We do believe
For those who do
Believe
That
There is more
A when
Even a where beyond
The mantle of the Earth
Rather
To the edge of heaven
There to judge
With any
Advocates
How things had gone
How awry
We treated
All the laws of God
Even the simple two
Commanding
Like the rest
Yet
Over
With the strength
And practicality
Of love
And so we rise and maybe to
Fine
Satisfying lives to come
I don’t know about clouds
And harps and
Such
Or everything be gold
Or the color of
Fresh snow
For all the tones
And textures
Here
For beauty
And sensation
More so the dynamos of life
Inside each one
They could continue
Now
Perfected
With open will and
New assignments
So that
What is to come
Is
So much more than cells
And atoms
Smaller things
To know
Someday
And all the larger matters
That
We took as Earth
And farther
As our media for strategy
Ambition
And the like
Because in all
Significance
Even to shadow meaning
Well
They were
It could be that heaven
Or what
Might be
Is more interesting
And active
Finally
A virtue out of busy
We don’t how perfected
And could there be
An element
Of risk
At hand
Depending
All the energy
The health
And who knows
What
And yet
The more
The most
Exciting days
To come
And though our call be not
To hurry
Still
This is what we have
In the offing
And to earn it by the balance
Or by grace
Cost
And accepted
Freely
So that we might get there
And
Once there
Without doubt
Are welcomed
To the
What’s next
Of eternity
Amen
As in
So it shall be
C L Couch
Photo by Steve Johnson on Unsplash
Photo by Florencia Potter on Unsplash
I searched for “life,” and this is one of the images I got. A contemporary still life, perhaps? Here’s what the artist has to say: “I tried to shoot some ‘set design’ photos just for fun with a friend and this is the result.” Added is “Hope you like it!” I rather do. Maybe the meaning, if a meaning is required, is that before death when in life we have lemons, we should make, you know, some lemonade. If so, best depiction of a saying I’ve ever beheld. Good day and good life, all!
Por la Vida
I’m tired
And my arm hurts
My neck hurts
Too
I’m stressed
Over several
Maybe many things
Some
More or less
Uniquely mine
Some
Cosmic
Though most of these
Mostly
In-between
And this is how I feel
More than
Emotions
But spread throughout
My body
As I suppose generally
Stress goes
And even body-pains
Are signaled to the rest
To rally
There’s
Depression
And there’s anxiety
They been identified
Anyway
In the way such challenges
Are analyzed
And explained
And often
And with me
Medicated
And that’s all right
Except
I feel the way I feel
Companionship
Might help
Though not always
While
Of course
There’s God
And I shouldn’t minimize
The almighty
Although I do
Don’t I
And all the time
Except
I also wonder
Why there’s evidence in
Nature
And in reason
But otherwise
The act and presence
Of divinity
Well
Denies both in sometimes
Storylike invisibility
But then
I’m on about companionship
Good company
Healthy
Relationship
That is
And shall I have that
Please
Maybe with Irish in a pub
(beyond the stereotype
I am half-Irish
by the way)
Maybe with Germans
(while I
type)
In a haus of hof
For what did Luther say
Of beer
But that it proves the love
And happiness
By God
Though I imagine
More than anodyne
Is needed for full
Living
And life is what I mean
And mean
For you
And quandaries
(I don’t think I’ve used that word
before)
Questions about remedies
Or simply how to answer
All the requirements
In a day
C L Couch
(with apologies to Irish and to Germans, though I think we/they can take it if not live it)
We Pray This Day
(to play)
God
Hear us today
We ask
In this gray day
Regardless
To have clarity
In you
Not
To know everything
But know enough
And suss
Enough
And feel it through
So that all of us
And
All inside
The major strings are played
And we make sense as
Instruments of
Harmony
To play for you in service
And in pleasure
Goodness(!)
Goodness
Pleasing you
While
Heaven’s performance
Shall be
So much better
Than our own and
Yet
Somehow
Coelic symphony
Conductor
To welcome
Someday
Our auditions
Amen
(and together)
Amen
C L Couch
Photo by freestocks on Unsplash
(human epilogue)
Sorry
Children
“Play” above
Means
Play as instruments
As we are instruments
Of the will
And in service of
The Lord
But God is not thoroughly
A spoilsport
And neither should
Liturgical leadership
Deny
That the play outside
Or inside
For sport is
Sanctioned
Too
If not at worship
Well
Before
Or after
If playing well
And God-approved
(and so
this way in
play
we pray)
Amen
(play ball)
Time Kept by the Ox and Lamb
Mary nodded
Pa-rum-pum-pum-pum
The ox and lamb kept time
Pa-rum-pum-pum-pum
A wonderful
Metered
And who knows
Maybe jazzy moment
As
We’re talking
Myth
And magic
More imagination
Overall
The ox and lamb
They kept
Time
While the drum was played
By a boy
Not a grown-up
For this first
Time
Not by a symphony
If there were a chorus
One of angels
It might have gone
Pianissimo
Then
Mary nodded
She could have tapped her toes
Or snapped her fingers
Though she was
After birth
And if she had been tired
She might have been tired
Then
And it might have been enough
To nod
As well as Joseph
After the efforts with all things
Arranging
Only nodding
Too
And then at midnight
All the animals
Join in
With voices we could hear
As being ours
Which is the legend
So that there’s magic upon magic
Contemporary
Ancient
Added to the textual lore
For fun
Perhaps
And without doubt
For meaning
And so let all created things exist
Parents
Children
Animals
Imagination and
Stories to tell
To sing
Maybe like animals at midnight
In a tappy
Or a jazzy way
Even a little wild
Like the passing of the Spirit
Through
And for
All things
C L Couch
The song “Little Drummer Boy,” first known as “Carol of the Drum,” was written by Katharine Kennicott Davis, appearing in 1941.
Photo by Carlos Coronado on Unsplash
On a Cold Easy December Day
By the way
I’m this brave
Before
The winter storms should come
Like in the moderating days
Of warmth
From spring to summer
I am appreciating
Even the end of fall
When
All pretty much
Has fallen
Covering
What is preparing to go deep
In hibernation
Soon
And now
Maybe in the midst of winter
With whatever’s fallen
Then
I can be brave as well
Even inside
White banks
Long columns of ice
Along the street
As I try to get by
And don’t
We all
In extreme heat
By correspondent measures
Opposite
The frozen time that should begin
Well
Any moment
Now
C L Couch
Photo by Will Turner on Unsplash
Hidden Ice
Hooker Lake, New Zealand
Mister Lennon Speaks
(and is wisdom)
Love is all you need
Though I suppose
A budget helps
While on Earth
There are the bills
While there are bills
And the next generation
To support
Later engage
And then the war of worlds
Because the world
Will not have peace with us
And then it’s over
We move on
Leaving to them
What’s left
And all there is
And it is great for life and love
C L Couch
Photo by Behnam Norouzi on Unsplash
When Sunday Is the First
Tridecaphobes beware
This should not
Be your day
A day for black
Cats
Ladders
Broken mirrors
Cracked backs
(awful!)
Bad thirteens
Judas
The thirteenth follower
Somehow
With Christ dying
On a Friday
Too
Though the bad
Day that pegs it is
Just inside
The fourteenth century
When on a Friday the
Thirteenth
A trap was sprung
Upon
The Templars
Arrested
Tortured
Executed
And the king of France
Who started the campaign
No longer
He decided
Had to pay the ruined Templars
Back
Then again
The origin could be African
Or India
Or from the Americas
Ancient Greece
Or Atabia
Where the numbers were invented
So
Good
Day
Inside
Or should you dare outside
Where black
Cats will be set on ladder steps
To sing in fiddled fashion
Of
The hours
C L Couch
Photo by Zhen H on Unsplash
[not unlike “Croatoan” on a certain tree, also a subject of suspicion]
clcouch123 
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