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Three and Isn’t That Enough
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Today is day 3
Third day of Christmas
The brief season
The song calls for
Three French hen
Whatever a French hen
Might be
In addition to
Being or having been
A hen from France
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My grandfather
The bird-bander
Might have been
Able to tell me
But I only saw him twice
At two and ten
And heard from him
Infrequently
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He would send some years
At Christmas time
A box of holly from his
Home in the
Contiguous northwest
I guess that’s where we’re from
On my father’s side
Though I had only been there
Once (that was the time
at two)
He came and stayed with us
For a while
In Pittsburgh (that was ten)
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He acted kindly
I also wanted
To like him
I have a Polaroid
Of him standing before
The Christmas tree;
He holds a pipe
And I must have moved
Because the lights on the tree
Are curved
And they were not that way
And did I take
Another shot?
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The men I liked
Or tried to like
Tended to smoke pipes:
My father, grandfather,
J. R. R. Tolkien, C. S. Lewis,
The chair of my department
In college,
And my first prof
In graduate school
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Gee,
What do you know
They all have died by now
(except perhaps
the grad-school prof)
As far as I know,
Pipe-smoking was not
(or will not be)
The cause
Though I could be wrong
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Anyway,
Three French hens
Cook them
Keep them in a cage
As you will
I guess they could be taken
To a petting zoo
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So far, six animals
That might be enough
But four more tomorrow
Then seven swans
That must be swimming,
Somewhere
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Then there are things
And the people doing tasks
Easy for them perhaps
And in increasing
Numbers
Sigh
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If you’ve had enough,
True love
I’m not sure how to let
The giver know
With such a plan
In execution
Good luck with that
Or add some rooms
And build positive relationships
With the staff
Of local parks
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C L Couch
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Photo by Soroush Karimi on Unsplash
I was really happy when I saw Eiffel tower. Like really really happy. It was rainy and gloomy but perfect.
[photographer’s narrative]
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clcouch123 
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