'round
I have to leave today
if only
for a while
like
his mother leaving for a walk
around the Hundred Acre Wood
and he asking before
would you like
me
to go with you with her replying
no
but when I return
greet me as if
I had been away
a long time
no mother or
another
to whom to say
that
to
or hear that from
though
needing to leave
also
to return
in a later hour
of this day
having gone around
c(hristopher robin) l couch
Christopher Milne tells the story of the walk and the question in The Enchanted Places. This Christopher better known as Christopher Robin. (And I nearly forgot mentioning that his name was how I got my own. Christopher, not Robin but for him, anyway, my mom really liking the stories.)
photograph by Lukasz Szmigiel on Unsplash
quiet as a
I sit
on an old creaking
and solid bench
and could I be quiet
like that church mouse over there
I neither see
nor hear
but wears gray
with brown
and
needing to clean the dust of Earth
when drops of water I might
find
somewhere there
c l couch
photo by Zoshua Colah on Unsplash
Cathedral of Saint John the Divine, NYC, USA
this kind of hour
gray
sky
black branches
black lines for panes
barely illuminated white frames
tall
in the old house
a saving grace of sorts
by
not seeing so much inside in this
dark hour
c l couch
photo by Tristan Colangelo on Unsplash
Good News on a Difficult Day
I turned away
With enough good news
To sustain
Me for an hour or until
The next broadcast
C L Couch
Photo by Georg Eiermann on Unsplash
day without asking
day without asking
unsaid what is borne by hours
twenty-foured season
C L Couch
Photo by Quino Al on Unsplash
In the Day of the Lord
Well
God
What shall you give
Today
There is the day
There will be daylight
Well-
Insinuated
In an hour or so
There will be more
Time
In hours
Time to choose
For those
Who may choose
Who aren’t
Conscripted otherwise
Drafting
Oneself
For cause
But then
The cause
Might be a wonder
How about family
About
The partner
Who works out
In
Intimacy
As well as
What is profound
When about one’s nation
Call it people
Call it country
Group
Tribe
State
Region
Everything that has a name
Maybe a living
Constitution
For a document
For walks
The simple
And sublime
Which faces our distraction
And decisions
All the time
And certainly
Today
And God
There is more than patriotism
There is the reason for it
And the rest
That is
Well
You
And what you say
You make
What you say and make
That is creation
Whose pages form
A scripture
Every day
And then the book itself
Shelved
We take down
Perhaps
We hear someone else
Reading
And from which
Some teaching
Though the hour
Is a sermon
Too
This hour
Then the next
Should we have the next
Odds say
We’ll have
Inside our complex bodies
Have a day that’s plain
Landing here or there
Pleine aire
Or chez lui
And should one
Ask oneself
About salvation
Or get the question
From another
Answer
We hope so
C L Couch
Photo by Alex Guillaume on Unsplash
[photographer’s caption] In New York, in a little shop, those watches where there, hanging in front of me!
(x = space)
x
x
Five in Five
(memoriam)
x
Out, out, brief candle! but
A candle isn’t brief
That’s on us for
A metaphor
Sometimes a real one, I guess
Sometimes the candles
In the church
Are pretty short
And thus available
For show
x
But the candle length
Is years,
I guess we know
Three score and ten
In made-up inches
Or in centimeters
Or real ones
(as in church)
To illustrate
x
You see, they are ubiquitous
Both real and imagined
x
The length may vary
By abstraction
Fate
I guess
And relativity
Macbeth’s flame is undone
Too soon by happy counting,
Not as an end
To tyranny,
His tragedy of making
x
But this is not a nation
Or a clan
Though Scots be in it,
Great text
Or a metaphor
(sorry to mention
then dismantle)
Simply a life
As it was
And as it’s gone
Always
Every hour I think on it
Too soon
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Rob Wicks on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Rocking
x
God is with me
As I tilt back and forth
Considering the day
The possibilities
Though first counting
What is real
In the atmosphere
In my awareness
As the spheres pass through
Vibrating oh, so slowly,
With the timing of creation
Slow with majesty
And an offer
To commune
And (much more) slowly get it
Then to rise
Into the day
And its new hour
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Syed Hussaini on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Isn’t It Romantic
x
Moving shadows write the oldest magic word.
x
Isn’t it romantic
All the snow
Pristine on tops of cars
That shouldn’t have to
Move just yet
x
Sidewalks
Half undone
While scraping shovels
Focused machines
Work on the rest
x
And isn’t it delightful
A snow day
Begging us to stop
Like toys
Wind up to unwind
For an hour
Of contemplation
Reading something new
Or press
Against a favorite
Page or person
x
There are those
Addressing danger
They are blessed
And we should help them
After
The stolen hour is done
When we return
To epiphany
Of ordinary time
x
C L Couch
x
x
“Isn’t It Romantic”
Richard Rogers, Lorenz Hart
x
Photo by Maddy Baker on Unsplash
x
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