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dog days

Doggone Dog-Here Dog Days

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Doggone Dog-Here Dog Days

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Dog days

For dogs

Cat days are every day

To cats

Winter might have dog days

But the famous days are

Summer

When it’s late

And there are days of heat

And humidity

When dogs are famous for

Lying down,

Stretched out on boards

Of Southern porches

While the humans

Sip up lemonade

And talk

About the weather

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n.b. for humans

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Keep water close by

And bring them in from

The heat

When you go in

Keeping in mind

That they’re your friends

And mine

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C L Couch

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Photo by Patrick Tomasso on Unsplash x

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Dog Days Days of Dogs

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Dog Days Days of Dogs

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I imagine dog days

In August,

But it’s been so hazy

And it’s been hot

I think of dogs

Such as bloodhound

Dogs (whatever looming,

drooping species)

Owning dropped places on

Front porches,

The kind of porch that drapes

From end to end

Or side to side

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And the dogs, they are

Listless shapes of

Tired, teaching something

To the rest of us

About not being

In the way

When the way is not

A deal

And we do better

Owning places

Away from doors

And under windows

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Like the dogs of summer

Something for

The cats of winter, too

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C L Couch

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Photo by Francesca Albert on Unsplash

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Field Manual for Seasons

Field Manual for Seasons

 

Blue peeks through

Green netting

On a midsummer day

Maybe it’s high summer, now

A timetable is needed

Not for tides

But for the broader reaches

Of the seasons

 

Something to say

These are dog days

Tell the dogs, they’ll want to know

When are cat days?

Silly humans, cats say,

Every day

Give dogs a few

 

It could also be a time

For field mice

Chipmunks, squirrels

All creatures seem to know

The seasons,

When to bury food

When to look for it again

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Jonnelle Yankovich on Unsplash

Chassell, MI, USA

instagram: @jey__photography

 

10

Last of the Dog-on-Porch Poems

(3)

 

 

A Lesson from the Story

 

In The Horse and His Boy

A young person is punished

In the way she caused

The wounding of another

Aslan is very present there

In Narnia

Potent and immediate

The good thing is that

Judgment’s taken care of

Neither need worry over it again

 

A moment’s wrong

Another’s retribution

And we are clean with God

Again

Not bad, pre-Apocalypse

Before the book is opened

One last time

For good

 

 

A Grown-Up Narrative

 

Some adults with ADHD

Say they don’t like the medication

I understand

They feel the edge has been

Worn down

Lacking what is needed

Sharp awareness to get through

Each day

I understand

And, seriouser still,

The feeling that oneself has

Been worn down, too

Filed in every way

 

I have a medication that

Calms me down

Cools me

I’m thankful for it

Am I less of me?

I think parts of me that haven’t

Got to surface very much

Now have a chance for rising

And for air

 

Am I less of me?

If I am, is that so bad?

The peacefulness, it might

Be worth it

For the fuzzying of awareness

(I know what’s around me)

The challenge of the

Deeps of spirit I must swim against

I feel for those like me

Like themselves

Who favor the back stroke or the

Breast stroke

When one should not have to be

In the pool

I know it’s more than metaphor

Metaphor’s a pointer

Everything gets real

After that

 

 

Not Tonight, I Have a Headache

 

I’m sorry

I never got it right, you know

I must have a life

To offer it

I must have built something

And I didn’t

Praise and all impressiveness

To those who have

Who found enough for themselves

And to share

That is the way

That is the way of life

It secures the present and

Leans into the future

 

 

C L Couch

 

 

Image by creisi from Pixabay

ecumenical?

 

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Some Dog-Days Poetry

(3)

 

 

Unplanning

 

I’m not sure why

A cool breeze

Always comes across as surprise

I’m thankful, really

I think if I arranged it,

I’d be particular in the wrong way

Overly concerned (if at all)

About temperature, humidity

Air pressure

Something about millibars

 

I’ll simply sit here

In a chair I hadn’t planned

If it rocks, that would be another boon

And if silently,

Would be relief

For my neighbor’s sake

 

 

The Only Kind that Matters

 

Bread used to be square

I saw it in a movie

‘Course then I’d have to say

Bread was black and white as well

I’m not how they pulled it off

What kind of protractor

Tyrannized the baking pans

 

I guess someone decided

That homey bread must have

A curvy bunch up top

But then began the crust wars

We’ve been waging ever since

Maybe after ends of eggs

The Lilliputians take this on for us

 

We’ve got toast to make

And victory in croutons

 

 

Squared

 

I think I sat in churches

And at funerals

For which paper fans were

Handed out

For trauma’s or heat’s

Sake I am uncertain

In our machine age

And cushioning our chairs

The paper fans seem to have

Gone away

Until the other day

When a friend presented me with

One of these, I’m not sure why

 

I hold it now, and I recall

It was the day of our town fair

And we’ve had record-breaking heat

This year

So folk wandered up and down

The street, bearing square

Reminders of mortality

 

You see, the name the favors bore

Was of a certain

Local institution

 

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Nathalie Ehrnleitner on Unsplash

 

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