(x = space)
x
x
Taproot
x
The brown blade sinks
And feeds the seed
That was a part
x
Seeds that sleep through
Cold time
Far enough
North or south
x
Something new and all the same
For being new
Will rise in spring
x
C L Couch
x
x
The Colors of Nature Caught on a Hike
Photo by Don Raridon on Unsplash
x
(x = close)
x
x
Impromptu
x
I get started
I get tired
This is something new
Age or medications
Take your pick
But sometimes when I’m
Relatively still
My eyes want nothing more
Than to close
And sometimes I follow through,
Which is also something new
x
I set aside my small machines
Stretch out with
A pillow
Here or there
Close my eyes the way
My grandfather closed
His,
Afterward
Saying
Just resting my eyes
x
C L Couch
x
x
While watching the lions on the right and 100 meters far from us, we did not see this nice guy was sleeping 3 meters next to us in the bush on the left side of our car. But he did awake gently . . .
Photo by Andreas Berlin on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Wounded Eagle
x
Did Ben Franklin really want
The emblem of the nation
Be the wild turkey?
Maybe so,
Though it’s hard when
One sees eagles in flight
To pick something else
x
In Cincinnati
At the zoo
Was an enclosure
For a bald eagle
Wounded and then rescued,
An enormous structure
For the one
Who would only fly
Partially again,
Such was the hurt
x
Netted magnificence
Still magnificent
Worthy for a nation
That’s somehow wounded, too,
And still can fly
x
C L Couch
x
x
While living in Cincinnati, I used to visit this eagle at the zoo. I trust I remember enough and am witnessing correctly.
x
For one season, I was able to photograph eagles at a nest. They were not bothered by my presence and in the morning the light was reasonably good. Sadly, that winter the tree blew down, and I have yet to find such an ideal site for eagle photography.
Photo by Richard Lee on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
An Appointment with God
x
I don’t’ have so many appointments
Lately,
For which I’m grateful
In a time of my kind of PTSD,
It’s the weight of stressors
I don’t have to bear
So much
x
To get there
To show up on time
To be here when I’m called
To have everything I
Might be needing
Relieved of this
Makes for a better day
x
I’d like to live easy
I don’t have much
But to have time
And on the flip side
Lack of bother
On the A side
Coffee and toast
And morning
And a day for you
x
Someday will arrive
I keep forgetting
You will arrive
To take me to home
By then,
Maybe I shall be glad
Meanwhile, I keep my faith
With me and then I
Hope with
The Amish
Who say, one by one,
I hope so
When asked about assurance
Of salvation
x
C L Couch
x
x
I think it was the poet Julia Kasdorf, as I may have said before, who told me about the typical response when Amish are asked the salvific question.
x
Waves
Photo by Bernd Dittrich on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Dreamscape
x
I had a dream in which
I had
An argument
With someone close
x
I hate those dreams
Even though I get
To yell
At people; and
Somehow that might be healthy,
Therapeutic
x
But the power balance
Is all wrong
Since agendas are guesswork
At best,
Especially of others
x
Not to mention everything’s
A construct;
I can’t even say
Reality is
Between the extremes
x
And when I wake,
I feel tired
As if I had been arguing
With someone
x
C L Couch
x
x
Criollita
Photo by Soledad Lorieto on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Petition for Another Monday
x
God,
To be prosaic
We need help
Our stories need more chapters
To fill in for burned-up pages
We moved too fast
Precipitous
And greedy
With a friction
That burned up
Our other efforts
x
Slow us down
Give us time
To think
Push us into
The clearings of the forests
Of the world
And by the oceans
In the desert
Surrounded by the mountains
And volcanos
Titans called back in service
Prometheus released
To decide again
About the gift of fire
x
I’m sure the circle
Of the Earth
Is a lesson
We take, we use,
We throw it out
To find and fund
The use of the world
Again
We use
And we renew
Breathe out poison
That the plants take,
Gift us with oxygen again
x
The circle is unbroken
For all the rich who try
And those with
Bent understanding
Of the power
That never was for our us
Without repairing
Turning back
What Earth can use again
And thus to our sustaining
And creating
Over ages
x
C L Couch
x
x
Quiet Voodoo Eye
Photo by Patrick Hendry on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Signpost
x
Let’s see
Let’s hear
Let’s smell
Let’s taste
Let’s touch
Let’s move in time
And between dimensions
Of the multiverse
How many senses do we know
How many are to come
Into our knowing
x
The episodes are so ordinary
As to be in black and white
A visit
To a small town
An employee
Inside a bank
Peddlers
Sometimes alcoholics
Sometimes astronauts
Who are not ordinary
But take our attitudes
With them
x
Something usual
Then everything must
Turn
Because under the sun
Or moon
Is not enough
Sometimes we must enter
The zone of twilight
x
Mister Serling says so
And he writes so
He is right
To send us there
Because what we know
Is not enough
x
I just put down a piece of toast
And it stood on end
I might be going
Somewhere next
Be with you
There
x
C L Couch
x
x
The Twilight Zone, 1959 – 1964
156 episodes
x
The Cocoon Nebula along with its trail of dark nebulosity. 11 hours of LRGB combined with 10 hours of hydrogen-alpha exposure.
Photo by Aldebaran S on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Killing a Bee
(that’s all)
x
Last night something happened
That hasn’t happened in a while
I was stung by a bee
It hurt
I blobbed on some ointment
On the spot,
Loosely wrapped it all,
Waited to find out what happened
Next
The last time I was stung didn’t go so well
The site swelled, and soon there was
A shot
(another
kind of sting)
I know, it is November
We weren’t outside
The finding of a bee (alive
the bee alive
I was alive)
Was a surprise
I discovered it while touching it
Picking it up, in fact,
Not knowing what it was
At first
(it was dark)
I doubt it was happy
And let me know
x
This morning, I found the bee
Where I had dropped it
When I touched it, well, it moved
And I killed it
Was it dying, anyway?
Did it let out a bee kind of scream?
Have I angered all its cousins, now?
Will they find me?
It’s an old place
There could be a colony, somewhere
I’d rather not have killed the bee
x
Now I think about
Going to church
Because it’s Sunday,
Church meeting day
As I type, the stinger still
Bites back,
A bit of pain from poison
And the barb
That I can’t see
Even though
It’s in my index finger
x
C L Couch
x
x
Was you ever bit by a dead bee?
I haven’t been
(all the bees so far
have been live)
I could be
Dead bees can hurt you
x
To Have and Have Not
(and my response)
x
x
Photo by Monica Valls on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Dust Bunnies at Play
x
When the winter sun is low
And everything on the floor
Is illuminated,
I spy
The dust bunnies come out to play
I say,
Hey, dust bunnies
Go back under things and behind things
Where I don’t know you’re there
They say,
No,
And don’t think to play with us
Your games are too tall and too hard
And I think they glare at me
And in their hearts
Have already gone back to play
Without me
x
C L Couch
x
x
(my, this could be done with children and with gestures—low, lit up, bunnies, under, behind, play, tall, hard, glare, hearts, play (again), without me)
x
Story of little bunny Peter that came across whole Italy:)
I don’t know this story
Do you?
I don’t recommend having a bunny
On the dashboard
Unless you’re parked
Or it’s navigating
x
Anyone want to illustrate this story?
x
clcouch123 
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