Approach on Christmas Eve
Dark quiet night
Unbeckoning
Then a golden light
As a small bulb, bold
Enough
Against the darkness
Now a red gleam, same kind
Shines close by
And between the two,
Ridge lines of rounded bush
Are inferred to our sight
A porch lamp farther on,
And now we see the sidewalk
A platform sided by
Small walls,
Homely columns rising,
Leads to the door
The night has borders now
We feel invited
The world has definition,
And our way in
Is right
C L Couch
Peace, Prevail
(for the USA and all)
Red leaves on trees
Against the season’s
Bright blue sky,
Branches lightened in
Late-afternoon, autumn
Sun
Vision of nature
Hope for a nation
C L Couch
Red Sky at Night
Retiring into the deep
Colors of the day
We come to the end
When light must give
Way to night
We sigh and with
Misty breath, exhale
Into the coming dark
No more arguments
To make against the
Day
Maybe a farmer’s
Understanding, for
There are evening
Laborers
Whose cycle will
Reverse the colors
Sorry, perhaps, for
Those who cannot
Read the final
Message in the dusk
Of dying day
Well, look to new hues
In the tellings that
Arrive, whenever
Daytime and
Nighttime meet, alive
I do not enjoy
Seeing your house without light
The fire takes too much
after friends’ house fire (haiku)
Fatima, Medjugorje
When Mary appears,
The sky dances
Circles of light and faith
Are made
First for children
There are those who
Doubt, which doesn’t
Matter (though the
Doubters matter)
God loves them, and
Maybe God’s mother will
Visit them sometime
And if you don’t believe
I love you, still
Maybe we’ll all gather
At Guadalupe where
Grown-ups can see
Her, if innocent enough
Though I’m never sure
If that means me
Pre-Dawn
Birds are noisy
Waking up the rest
Of the world
Mist along the
Edges of the yard
A damp feel
Light enough for
Artificial lamps
Turning useless
Now earth turns
Over a bit to be
Washed by the
Day’s new air
Bending without
Voice the arcs
Of branches
Enough for them
To moan a little
Wind cleans night
With round beads
Of dew water
Surprise and
Comfort in the
Dawning tasks
31 January 2016
(in the global north)
I still wake up with jittery feelings. The sun is bright. The snow is melting down. Maybe I need it gone. But is that the boundary of my fear? I sit and look outside to see the beauty. I am inspired to come back and write a verse of two. Still, fear jumps inside me. At least it doesn’t leap. I’ll feel better, once I write a bit. Drink a hot drink, maybe take a pill or two pills. I know that on a good day my heart still operates in an iffy way. I know that what happened here was momentous. It’s momentous, still, outside. As in ancient Arabian architecture, I cherish space and righter light. Not simply looking out into amorphous glare. Rather the view of a virtuously bright and blue-skied world above with earth of desert browns beneath. Through arches made of genius and of grace, numbering the stars within each stone’s embrace.
I dream this is all easier, if not delightful, in a desert paradisal scene. Where arid becomes beautiful and free air moves through all, spirits borne and carried along. Maybe heaven’s healing wind will pause and wave upon me there, and I will feel and know something of the serene aspect of God.
Too much romance and earthly-bound, I know. But I need this. My fear frankly needs it, as does my hope and peace.
clcouch123 
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