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autumn

Rhapsody on Umber

(x = space)

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Rhapsody on Umber

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Orange

Nothing rhymes with it

(I’ll try syringe

sometime,

hydrangea-a?)

Who cares

In the better way

It’s wonderful

And add a little brown and yellow

Is that burnt umber

The lost crayon?

x

But it’s just

Right for fall

Add red on its own

For leaves

And all the shades

For possibilities

Cast them under clouds

On a cool day

When walking

In the countryside

Is right

A quiet celebration

A season in the season

If you live around

Here

If not,

In the mind then

Or online

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It’s fall

The very best Pooh weather

There should be

Tea and honey

For Christopher and friends

The roly bear

The donkey with the usually tail

Mama kangaroo and child

Tiger with springs

An owl of storied wisdom

As far as a child’s genius go

Long-suffering rabbit

And the pig

Small

Always counted on

Like needful stories

To be there

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thanks for A. A. Milne and to my mom who really liked the stories

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C(hristopher Robin) L Couch

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Photo by Valentina Ivanova on Unsplash

Ukrainian Village, Чикаго, Иллинойс, США

Published on October 19, 2021

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Nearing Full

(x = space)

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Nearing Full

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The moon is yellow

The sky is blue

The clouds are silver

The stars are white

The branches have no color

Except the color

Of porch lights

x

It’s late again

The air is cool

Maybe in the fifties

Maybe forties,

Which is not so special

As a sign of autumn

In October

In these parts

But the days and nights

Have been too warm

Now the season

Is announced

x

We’ll have the chilly fall

And with the drop

To cold

At a propitious time

Beautiful leaf colors,

True

Autumn review

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C L Couch

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Photo by Eleanor Brooke on Unsplash

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Sleeper Awake

(x = space)

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Sleeper Awake

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It’s 69 degrees

(Fahrenheit)

At (twelve-oh-five, we say)

12:05

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Fall arrives

And hobbits,

The birthdays

Of the Bagginses

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New season

With an equinox

Autumnal

To complement

The vernal

By a half,

Half a year,

Half a world

x

We tilt into another

And existentially

A new one

x

We have not had

Today

Or this changing

Of the Earth

Around 11

Post-meridian

x

Here is the same season

As a new one,

New seconds

Newly breathed

Into hours

And an age

Collectively

x

Spring to the south,

Autumn

To the north where

Where there

Might be dragons

In their lairs.

Then

We bring in cold air

And awaken them

x

We think fall

Might be the readiness

For freezing,

Sleeping winter;

And yet

(like new school years

for young ones

and for teachers)

Here and now

The adventure,

The quest

Might begin

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C L Couch

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Photo by Hans Isaacson on Unsplash

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Mortal Timing

(x = space)

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Mortal Timing

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It’s cool today

Thank goodness

I am thankful

I guess I can’t haiku this

No artful three-line

Praise

Or only observation

Out of nature

Yet nature should be thanked

We are lucky in this hemisphere

Just now

North enough

And south enough

(ecumenically)

Praise fall’s invocation

Of bright colors

Praise the God

Who shows us grace

With autumn

x

Someday

The seasons mesh

Their virtues celebrating

All together

How trees will bear fall colors

While serving new life below

As spring

And summer

Under winter’s cover

We don’t know

(maybe there will be quarters of

seasons’ perfection)

But it is heaven

And new Earth

And these miracles will work

Like clear gold

In the streets of

New Jerusalem

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C L Couch

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The twelve gates were twelve pearls, each made of a single pearl.  The great street of the city was of gold, as pure as transparent glass.

Revelation 21:21

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Photo by Steven Cordes on Unsplash

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This Autumn Morning

(x = space)

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This Autumn Morning

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Gray with

A patch

Of red

Inside black

Branches

Red leaves

Attached

Maybe until

A winter wind

Comes to

Take them

Through the

Air until the

Breath’s expired

Then gravity

Must have

Its way and

Like the roots

We can see

And-or touch

Must lie upon the

Earth

And inside

For a while

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C L Couch

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Joshua Tree National Park

Photo by Matt Artz on Unsplash

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Slight Season

(x = space)

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Slight Season

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The sun is out

I should be going to it

There might be chill

It might be fall

At last

Not too soon to winter, please,

Which is the trouble

With the seasons in-between

Their timing seems so fragile

When

Arriving

Surprising, when it seems

They stay a good, long while

Leaving the severities

To themselves

And their own time

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C L Couch

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Photo by Jana Shnipelson on Unsplash

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Look Now

(x = space)

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Look Now

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I pulled on the window shade

The old-fashioned kind

I got stuck with

Gray all around

I suspect another strange fall day

Too hot in the eastern USA

This year

x

It takes a couple tugs

But without the absurd length

That it can get to,

The shade goes up

And it might be too hot

But the leaves that look at me

Inches from the glass

Are autumn first

Colors mixed with summer green

Red and orange, yellow

All say hi

(green sighs)

We are here

x

It is the season, anyway

And I am thankful

Whose formality comes

Later on

With cornucopia

Thick tablecloths

And such

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And while there is no peace

There is small, sustaining

Joy

In nature’s

Hello in the season

Outside

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C L Couch

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Photo by eberhard 🖐 grossgasteiger on Unsplash

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Equinoxic

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Equinoxic

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Is it really in the sixties?

That is so nice

Today or tomorrow

Is the equinox

And fall will be official

We want it to be fall, I think

The leaves to turn

The air to be a challenge

Time for coats

And yellow schoolbuses

Easier to see

Take care

Autumn has its challenges

Practice looking out

For trick-or-treaters

First frost

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C L Couch

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in the northeast of the USA, northern hemisphere

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I looked at the temperature and said to myself the first two lines

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Photo by Jason Leung on Unsplash

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Indian Summer

(x = space)

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Indian Summer

(in 2020)

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It’s hot now

In the Northeast, and it’s

November

I recall something called

Indian Summer to explain

It

I don’t know if

That’s an offensive reference

I always thought that

It spoke to knowledge that

Native Americans had that

Those of us who only

Knew suburbia

Did not have,

Could not

Maybe not a secret knowledge

But a close knowledge of the land

And all the agencies

Of nature

x

I could look it up

But today some Republicans are

Fighting the results of elections

That were won by millions

And their surrogates

(where applicable)

And I’m worn out over biases,

Even though they tell us who

We are on a good day

Without the evil platform

Others try to make of them,

One side or another

x

So I’ll keep the second summer

For a little while,

Get smarter tomorrow

Issue apologies, if need be

My bias, by the way,

Is for a return

To chilly autumn

And wanting to believe

In election

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coda

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Okay, I looked it up

It is a term applied

By colonizers

(so is evident)

But so is Indian

That, I must admit, even

As a child seemed odd

To me:

Once the mistake

Columbus and the Europeans

Made was understood,

Why didn’t we change

The term?

And here’s a thought—we didn’t we

Ask them?

And why don’t we now?

They’ve got a term

An understanding

They refer to all of themselves

As “the people”

(translating and transcribing)

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We the people,

Fancy that

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C L Couch

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Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

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