Mid-Atlantic States’ Autumn Afternoon
Soon it’s three o’clock:
My favorite hour at this time
of year,
when daylight starts further
to fall, because it’s set to do so
When stark-yellow transports
will go by
smooth and grumbly under
billow-clouds with cotton faces
deepening
They say, laughing while we
run for porches that have
ceilings,
Enjoy this grey day
Its lack of definition presses
romance through everything
beneath
an amber sun
Bread Alone
A crumb set on a windowsill by a wayward mouse
Seen through the dust, returning to grab up
The part of grain
Clever mouse
Hungry mouse
Field mouse—headed back where it belongs
Leave it alone
It’s an old house
We might need an ally
You want to be in the right place, too
C L Couch
Today’s Pain
My eyes hurt. Parts
are swimming.
Parts are dry. Maybe
with more sleep.
Sigh.
C L Couch
Morning Dark
morning dark
it’s longer now
and night arrives
earlier—the
longer time for
black sky to have
its way
and in equinox-
thinking, this is
just
for we should not
fear the dark,
since there is
dreaming there
C L Couch
Spaceships
Shapes that never flew,
clean lines that don’t
exist;
eccentric shapes of fifty,
sixty years ago,
of older sci-fi movies,
too,
of Méliès and Lang;
I put my spirit-child trust in
these
far-off, far-out
conveyances
through times and places
that I ken
at night when
looking out to dream an
open sky;
Liftoff,
mind stowed above shined
shelves of
unknowing, rhythmic,
turned controls that
take me
nowhere, really;
back of the senses, though,
that day by day must
gauge
and engage—
there’s unerring flying
there,
as is said,
believe you me;
rocket to a set piece,
yes, I know; and
I’ll keep
watching,
dreaming of silver-streaming
things
that might bear
you and me
away into otherwise
impassable,
impossible flight-filled night
C L Couch
Homely Patterns
(touchstones)
The textures look good,
Fetching shadows made by
Leaves that brush
Morning panes;
Utensils drying in the
Countertop basket, like
Bright soldiers
At ease
Anticipating dress parade;
More
Things lined up above
The sink, ordinary
Items as
Remembrances:
Symbols mean the whole;
Here hopes rest
In half-light perceptions
And
First-morning moments
Services with Variants
(from Appalachia)
I wonder as I wander
Out under the sky
Why Jesus, my Jesus,
Did come down to die
For poor on’ry people
Like you and like I
I wonder as I wander
Out under the sky
And then the story can begin in
Earnest—the grammar’s bad:
What does that really matter,
When the bias is for long and
Almost painful, loving notes
Wrought in the words to send
Them over; all the o sounds and
The is like convict souls, once
Held then let go like winged
Enchantment, soar above the
Planet in the room, to wave
Like smoke around the beams
Above the Sunday evening
Gathering, like convicts bound
Whose chains are broken with
No expectation, words and
Notes released like birds once
Wrapped by keepers’ hands—
In flight now to know no other
Mission than the erring sky
And song of wonder-wandering
“I Wonder as I Wander” (Appalachia)
Words and Music collected by John Jacob Niles
Collected by John Jacob Niles in Murphy, [North Carolina,] in July 1933 from a young traveling evangelist Annie Morgan. According to Niles, he asked her to sing the song repeatedly until he had memorized it. It was published in his 1934 Songs of the Hill-Folk.
http://www.hymnsandcarolsofchristmas.com/Hymns_and_Carols/i_wonder_as_i_wander.htm
and “on’ry” is ornery, which is a good word
Red Crescent
(Yemen)
What’s left behind
In towns, on plains of blood
Yemen
And everywhere
In the west
Of Asia
They look for
Our families taken
Through
The rents of war
They offer drink
Give food
And in the desert night
Leave warmth
Around the victims
Soft-bright shields
Drawn with symbols
Did you not know?
Red Crescent complements
The awful need
Quranic teaching
And impulse
To save the unknown
Neighbor
clcouch123 
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