green

in this late season

it is bright and
hot
yellow
emerald like Oz
dark branches hold up spring
fullness

blossoms’
debut
voices to whispers in the trees

dismal bouts are done for now so
that
the moon should look clear
in its expressions in
the night

c l couch

photo by Simon Berger on Unsplash

2 weekend haiku

Saturday crowds green
back and out front glisten ‘round
wider spring’s sunlight

city slides from hill
bushel claims the under-light
weekend gospel press

c l couch

photo by Ruslan Zh on Unsplash

Kermitage

I’d like my alone place
To have
Green

I’d like to sing
And ride a bicycle
And live
Some parts of animated
Miracles

I’d like some time to contemplate
And then I’d like my green self
To find
Company with others
Maybe on a sunlit street
Or on a grander set

Or if a pond
A pond
That might be a homecoming
Anyway

Some place small or large
With people small
And large
Who look like me
Or never shall
And so be wonder to me
Maybe to
All
All the time

Green
And otherwise
My being green
At
Least in part
Forever

C L Couch

on Palm Sunday

Photo by Jack Shen on Unsplash


2 poems about the new season (more or less)


Bouncy

God
It’s yellow Friday
With blue and brown
On deck

It’s
Spring and time
Not for the metaphor this
Time but
To really
Play some ball

Training
Then the opening
We each can do this

Batter
You know
Up

And I’ve switched audience
Though aren’t you
Always there
(for
an excuse)

Forgive me
And allow me to say
Maybe
To everyone

About
Gospel of play
And did you plays as you ringed
And then rounded
Creation

Maybe
Keep us
Safe
In this new season

Knowing that our choices
Make the difference
Even if
And when
We could turn our will
Toward yours

A wheel
And a wheel within a wheel

But I was thinking baseball
Pitches
Running
And then
The coming home

Green
Workaday
And extraordinary-day
New
Season to you

And to you

Amen


Freedom Ring

The Liberty Bell is cracked
And there were more
Bells
At the time
Ringing freedom
While now we have
The broken bell
For show

And there is wisdom
In admiring the broken
Toward
Kintsugi perhaps
Or to leave in
Pieces
Sometimes for further lack of use
Except in small beholding
Or
When a sizable
Cast bell
To dream on ringing
To dream really large
Sometimes


C L Couch


Photo by Joe Richmond on Unsplash

All the Green Hours

It’s the witch hour
The day after Saint Pat’s
Though
The ministry of saints goes on

Brigid might be busy
Too
Being the saint
And also something of
Imbolc
The supernal spirit of the land

C L Couch

(for Saint Patrick’s Day late)

Photo by Greg Willson on Unsplash

a few lines as if in part above the abbey

a few lines of nature
and of God

looking outside
nothing
grand to see
with no majestic sound

rather
the grandness and the majesty
are in the small networks
of the branches

dark tendrils
once the vessels of green leaves

then shall all be green again
after three months
when green
shall
smally
grandly
majestically
overwhelm impending gray
again

that is nature
and is God
the work
at least
in lines
of
seasons’ prophecy

c l couch

photo by Brussel Banda on Unsplash