days of dozing dogs
the wishes
would be mine
though I guess
these
days belong to dogs
bloodhound-looking dogs
reclining
on
a porches
in days that are wet and heavy
without the break
of rain
and this way ‘til September
when we hope
the change in
name
alone
will make a difference
c l couch
photo by Barnabas Davoti on Unsplash
(x = space)
x
x
Doggone Dog-Here Dog Days
x
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
x
n.b. for humans
x
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
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Patrick Tomasso on Unsplash x
x
(x = space)
x
x
Dog Days Days of Dogs
x
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
x
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
x
Like the dogs of summer
Something for
The cats of winter, too
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Francesca Albert on Unsplash
x
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
instagram: @jey__photography
(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
ecumenical?
(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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