Saturday’s child works
hard at jobs that never cease
could wage to a fault
c l couch
photo by Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa on Unsplash
one forest remains
energy needs more than air
leaving machine world
c l couch
photo by Maximalfocus on Unsplash
I looked up to fall
blue and red and green were clear
traffic noise behind
c l couch
photo by Bryan Dickerson on Unsplash
“Fall Breaks Out in Texas”
golden late-sun tree
Earth regardless tilts away
climate change stalls fall
c l couch
(next I’ll be writing about how cold it’s gotten)
photo by Conor Luddy on Unsplash
red and green on tree
late for fall or early Yule
auguring from leaves
c l couch
photo by Chinnu Indrakumar on Unsplash
(leaves are for illustrative purpose, of course—what I mean to get at is that I don’t know the plant or if its leaves change for fall or it’s another process)
Saturday haiku
(senses applied to what’s outside; maybe each verse stands alone; maybe they all have to go together)
the skitterers wait
leaves falling then branches cleared
skittering delight
what is there to hear
surprised or unsurprised sound
to like or endure
out front I smell town
cars and bricks and street work there
out back trees and leaves
unconvincing taste
air that’s all mixed together
good and bad to breathe
touching the splinters
old drying frame of window
trees too far away
c l couch
photo by LR HULTS on Unsplash
forward one red leaf
before a crimson chorus
conducting fall's song
c l couch
today in my friend’s yard a big red leaf hanging lonely, behind which smaller red leaves formed a line, nature auguring fall, I suppose
photo by Stephen Mabbs on Unsplash
maybe some relief
wet air into breathable
please the angel work
c l couch
[I don’t know if haiku might serve for whining, probably not, sigh]
photo by Emma Swoboda on Unsplash
[it might be hard to tell, the bird is singing]
Saturday haiku
the weekend adds up week’s leaves
rake and then jump in
c l couch
photo by Diogo Nunes on Unsplash
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