Christmas in July
we say that Christmas is December
and yet
because we need not fixed remember
then
there is no reason why
can be no Christmas in July
c l couch
a while ago, a friend was asking why Christmas could not be celebrated in July, not with sales but with services; part of this verse I came up with right away, the rest boiling like plum pudding over years
photo by Susan Wilkinson on Unsplash
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two poems for July
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Watch Your Dogs
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Dogs don’t like fireworks
Many veterans don’t
All kinds of people
Be with them
Sit with them
Support K-9 programs
Support people
Not everyone likes fireworks
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Hello, July
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Hello, July
It’s hot and humid here
Not much more to say
But, well
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There’s a lot of green
And other colors, too
Not like fall
But everything that lives
Does fly and otherwise
Visit us a season
As if
Forever’s come to call on
Bees and butterflies
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The fireflies
Still have a season
Though, like strawberries,
They flourish in June
Around here
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Storms appear and fall
Blow things around
Hot and wet fronts bumping
Around
Generally, we say
We need the water
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Flavor of Hibiscus
Photo by Michael Dziedzic on Unsplash
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C L Couch
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(x = space)
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Red, Gold, and Green
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Friends are back,
And they will leave again
I come and go
As well
We are the
“Karma Chameleon”
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There is more space
Here, because good people
Took some
Things away
To have new homes and uses
Elsewhere
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Not all is well:
Headaches
Of all kinds
You know
I try to sleep
I try to write
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But the sun is out
The humidity is broken for
A while
There is a-c and another fan;
There is food in
The fridge
And on some shelves
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Not exactly
Christmas in July
And, yes,
Christmas in July
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C L Couch
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“Karma Chameleon” by Culture Club
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Photo by Sonder Quest on Unsplash
Rockefeller Center, New York City, United States
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All Days
(pandemic time)
July seems to be rushing
Toward conclusion
I’m not sure how that is
But there is a number at
The lower right-hand corner
That changes
Every day
And soon will be over
Maybe because it’s hard to
Tell the weekdays from
Each other
I was certain Sunday it was
Saturday,
Which should be the
Mind providing one more day
Rather than one less
But, you see,
All the days are merging
In self-quarantine
I imagine you know
What I mean
Some day we’ll be over it
Not because we say so
And we’ll look back in time
To wonder how we did it
With worse help
From Washington—well, there
I’ll need
To get beyond it, too
Not simply the spate of days
Cheers to August
More time for discovery
Maybe the science news
Like numbers for days
Will turn forward
C L Couch
Photo by Tim Umphreys on Unsplash
While shooting off fireworks on the Fourth of July, a summer storm rumbled in the distance. Crystal clear skies, beautiful stars, and picturesque lightning made for an incredible moment.
Christmas in July
(for the editor of a local newspaper)
I think it was largely a retail invention
I think it still is
There was a movement
For a while this year
To display Christmas
Or holiday lights,
But I don’t think it took on
Maybe was subsumed
By a trenchant desire
To be normal,
Which evidently has to be
A retrograde feeling
Too bad, since lights on houses
In July would be cool without,
You know, being cold
At least in these parts
I’d be up for Aussies and
Kiwis joining the movement,
Too
Lights and music
Maybe a sensation or two
We wouldn’t have to call it
Christmas—how much does the
Birth of Christ resonate, anyway?
We could be respecting of
All the good traditions
(there are many)
Frankly, nodding toward
Colors, maybe music
Gift-giving could take a pass
Let’s use what we already
Have
For fun, adding a toy penguin,
Maybe a dinosaur (also
stuffed, not stuffing us)
Or two
Not to make it chaos
But, to borrow from another
Celebration, a cornucopia
Inclusive, somewhat organized
Revelry without the stress
The other days have had
A campaign, then,
For all the senses in community
Unseasonal holidays in July
Enjoy, enjoy, enjoy
C L Couch
Photo by Sandra Grünewald on Unsplash
July
(pandemic time)
Just is going by so quickly
Soon will be the ides
And yet how can that be?
We’re inside in pandemic time
The days are blurred
The hours should be slow
As if marked
By a Gothic clock
That ticks without relenting
In a ruined house
But here it is, half the month
Is nearly done
Maybe the problem is
Each day is rushing by,
Losing pieces
As an airplane hull in a comic book
Crashing craft before the superhero
Comes,
Lifting up the plane
Restoring those of us inside
To safe living on the ground
What we’re used to
Isn’t happening
All the things we’re told need doing
In each hour
So the hour slides
Collecting in a bin, somewhere
Maybe we think the hours
Will be called back into service,
Though really I think we know they’re gone
And with them,
All our former expectations
We want time to wait
So we might catch up what has gone
Bring it back into our time
That it might rush again
But we’ve heard the occasional
Voices
Like soft-spoken prophets
Telling us that normal will have to be
Redefined,
And then
It’s all right
We will have it
Back and for the first time
Hello, I must be going (Captain Spaulding)
Time will be back
To fill more as we wish
Though there is a call
In the air
Or on the tables with our alarm clocks
Inviting us to be more woke,
As we’re saying,
For the day
A day of work
A day of home
A day of work at home
School out there
Jobs out there
Keeping them inside, too
Inside us
The Earth is a busy place,
Though not so much in nanoseconds
As in seasons
Seasons of life
And letting go of life
When we return,
We’ll have the chance to keep some things
Old things and new
Making a fuller way to live
A fuller way to understand
Ourselves, our families, our friends
The world we’ve been given
And still have, for now
Intertwining life
With more threads for the loom
More strands in the weaving
Valuing some things
We always said
We’d get around to
Such as lifelong learning
Family really matters
Well, it’s turning into a banner over town
Relax, enjoy the day
Fill it with what you will
Or let it go
But here is a chance
For an awful reason
To repack our lives,
Leaving what’s no longer needed
Along an existential road
Backing into what we’ll call
Another time
That now is past
We’ll walk straighter in the now
(straighter however we go)
With vision, other senses for today
And some toward the future
Tomorrow hopefully will grow
And then a little more
But have today
A first day in July,
All the hours in a day and season
Count them slowly, count them fast
Count them not at all
Let time be a blanket
Rest or play or work upon it
Savor
Breathe fully
A gift of air from the sky
And the host above, below
The maker it works for
Who will, as we will,
Keep the time for us in
What happens
And what happens next
C L Couch
Photo by Ian Macharia on Unsplash
Took this on a trip to Kargi, a remote nomadic settlement in Kenya. It’s been a while since I got to experience a people so constantly happy and full of joy as the people of here.
clcouch123 
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