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Snow Living

(x = space)

x

x

Snow Living

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The snow fell several times

in the night.

Now the sun is out on

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ground that is too white,

under blue that is

relief

for clouds innocuous.

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Trucks with blades

but already parts of roads

are closed

because of accidents,

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no doubt caused

by those who think

the weather makes no

difference.

x

Stay inside if you can—

advice cast

through

the air and over wires. Yet

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we know how to

live inside,

thanks to

our mutual situation.

x

Turn away, perhaps,

from uncurtained

windows.  At least wait

‘til dusk.

x

Look inside (instead) to

think about

holidays, vaccines.

x

C L Couch

x

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Photo by Bogdan Cheșa on Unsplash

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2 poems about the snow

2 poems about the snow that’s on its way

(and now is falling)

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x

Happy Weather People

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The sky is full

Nothing surprising there

It should be snowing soon

x

I don’t like where

The car is parked,

Though I suppose anywhere

Along the street

It’s going to be plowed against

When the trucks with the

Big blades go by

x

Records will be broken,

So they say;

The forecasters actually are

Excited on the TV screen

With big maps projected behind

Them—well, sure things

Probably don’t

Come their way so often,

Lucky them

For now

x

x

New Testament

(December, MidAtlantic USA)

x

Yes, it’s cold

For now, I’m not worried

Should I lose the electricity,

I might die

But I’m inside

Not everyone gets to be

And some are inside hospitals

Too many, in fact

Because the disease

Is moving toward a spike, again

x

There is a better message

Still to be sworn in

And better methods in the offing

We’ll all get our shots,

Eventually

And deal with side effects

The chart will have point

And then slide down

The other side

x

At least, that’s the plan

Many people

Even when silenced

Or at least shouted down

Have worked on this

And we need

To trust their skill,

Attested by the numbers

Going down

x

And we can say

This was

Our generation’s 1918 influenza

To count

To bury

And to weep

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x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Andrew Ridley on Unsplash

Cairngorms National Park, Ballater, United Kingdom

National Park, Ballater, United Kingdom

Pile of Leaves

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2

Fear of Visigoths

(x = space)

x

x

Fear of Visigoths

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Now is the penultimate:

The warning

On a moving map,

Digitized attesting to

The storm that’s on its way.

x

There is an open sun

Just now

Belying all aggression in

A strategy of sky—thank goodness

That we know

x

We have a day

To run through all

Remaining shelves

That might have inventory.

x

Barbarian invasions

Of the nervous system—what

The virus doesn’t take,

White digits

Of snow warning will.

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C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Scott Walsh on Unsplash

Toronto, Canada

Night Job

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Chargers

(x = space)

x

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Chargers

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Yesterday the car

Broke down, because

There haven’t been

Enough complications

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We could have had

Trains, but we chose

Cars, and I enjoy driving

My small colleague

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That is now sleeping at

The garage where I

Take it, when I have to

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Long-suffering it’s been:

It doesn’t have a name,

I clean it when it rains,

I fill it with supplies

As if it were a buckboard

Brought into town on

Saturday and I for a shave

Above the saloon

x

And now and then a horse

For a hero

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C L Couch

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x

Photo by gaspar manuel zaldo on Unsplash

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Fate Unravels

Fate Unravels

(for Rosema in pandemic time)

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I don’t know what to say

Today, it’s Friday

Hanukkah

Christmastime

Specifically, the Advent

Season

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Who is coming to my house?

No one, for above the

First floor, we are not friends

x

We’re good as strangers

And a little worse

It’s so pretty outside

In a pastel way

It’s not as cold

As December should be

Around here

But it’s within the comfort zone

Generally,

Forties to seventies,

And I should not complain

x

A murder mystery

And if there’s no one to admire

Or a hero garnering

My admiration,

Then I’m not sure how much

I’ll care,

Since it isn’t real death, after all

x

So I’ll close the book and choose another

I’ll choose another day

Simply by waiting,

Persisting through this one

Not that it’s bad

But it’s the same

x

Under the aegis of pandemic

An aegis that’s a weight

Upon the mind, the heart, the soul

That we’re supposed to love God with,

All three

x

As for festivities,

It’s all right to have them quietly

Under a cellular radar

And should,

Like Penelope or fate,

We have to unloom the loom

Each night,

We’ll have another day

To reweave

With what we have

To raise our masks

Like players on an ancient

Stage,

To love close up

And as current love requires

From far away

x

CLC

x

https://areadingwritr.wordpress.com/

read her great and open work

x

Photo by Josh Redd on Unsplash

Kansas, USA

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2 poems about parochial gods

(x = space)

x

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2 poems about parochial gods

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Anvil-Thinking

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Sheesh, I wake up with more

Headaches

Under the metal

Of the skin

Someone has been hitting with

A hammer while I slept

Or gave a go

x

To anyone who suffers

With these things,

I’m sorry;

For those of you around them,

Take a moment to consider

x

I don’t know if it’s pollution

Of some kind

Or the tyranny of thought

That keeps us from free thinking

x

Well, more power

To you from the utility

Of time and grace

And maybe a surprise, that if

We try everything we know

(keep it safe, please—no

candles in the ear)

Then both of us will have

A better morning,

Thanks to

Maybe all our household gods

x

Leave an offering

Of grain upon the hearth

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Photo by Bruce Kee on Unsplash

Patrica, Italy

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No Contest

(1 Kings 18:20-40)*

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Are there false gods

Or gods who are false?

Are there true gods

Who like to lie

And treat penitents with

Indiscretion?

Does Ba’al not exist

Or did it not give its profits

What they wanted?

x

Maybe it cows before

The God of Israel

Who holds the truth

That displays

Are for the chumps

While true belief

Has no need

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And so Elijah won

The contest because to him

It was no deal:

Light a fire on wet wood?

Not only is it nothing

It proves nothing

x

Belief is a fire

Somewhere else,

And faith lives out a lifestyle of

Easy miracles

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https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1%20Kings%2018:20-40&version=ESV

*verse 40 is especially brutal

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Photo by sarina gr on Unsplash

Forest

Campfire at night!

x

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C L Couch

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3

Rescue Time

(x = space)

x

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Rescue Time

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1

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Monday

Is remembrance

And for some reason

(for that reason?)

A deadline for

Medicare plans

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We remember days

Invaded and sometimes

Days invading:

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Sixth of June

In Normandy,

Sometimes Grenada

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Remembrance to

Become a kind of normalcy;

We turn it

Into ritual,

A plain on which to

Cry

However smally

And to celebrate,

Wave small flags

Attending on parades

x

Later or before

By gravestones or

With photo albums

x

2

x

We’ll have

So many reasons

To remember now

With names and with dates

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We could remember

As we go

x

The numbers needing

To dealt with

For what they mean

In bodies

And the layers of

What they mean,

What has been lost

x

Talk of remembrance

Ironically

Or,

Ignoring politics,

Through the heart

x

C L Couch

x

x

4380 CA-46 W, Paso Robles, United States

Paso Robles

(https://www.brucemunro.co.uk/

https://www.travelpaso.com/blog/post/your-virtual-escape-to-paso-robles/)

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0

Impulses

(x = space)

x

x

Impulses

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Exhaling’s good

x

We feel as if we’re

Letting go,

Letting things out

We no longer

Need

x

Maybe small cells

Of disease

(don’t breathe those

at anyone),

Maybe

Small particles of

Memory we

Could do without

Because they act like

Sickness,

Like an infection

x

Maybe we’ll

Straighten up a little

As we inhale,

Let the shoulders

Do their part

x

Maybe we’ll inhale

Healthy remembrance,

As life allows

For these, the

Memories that heal

x

It’s a dicey game

That is no game

Breathing, hurting,

Healing,

Breathing some more

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We learn from

this, from these

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It’s why we

Went to school,

To learn how

To learn

To breathe

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C L Couch

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Photo by Erik Dungan on Unsplash

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1

The Present Season

(x = space)

x

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The Present Season

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It is Advent I know

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Last year I wrote

A perambular devotional

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It comes without

My help and does in

Fact mean coming

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As it is a season

A loving kind

Of pre-Christmas warning

x

Well I hope it is

Such a good season for you

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The kind of joy

That prophets might

Foretell but that

By planned devotion

Or surprise

We get

To live anyway

x

Let all of us

As if from Santa Claus

Delivered

To the city- and cave-dwellers

And those who live

Under palm trees

x

Or on high mountains

Inside windy forests

Or on moving sand

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Have such a season and

At the season’s end

Such and more so

A merry day

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C L Couch

x

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Photo by Sebastian Fröhlich on Unsplash

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