a weather and a faith report (2 poems)
weatherized
so the snow falls
or something
falls
sometimes it’s hard to tell
and so to turn
the street is sounding
well
squishy outside
and all the shapes are white
though I can’t
tell
for sure
which means sleet
I guess
or freezing rain and I’m not sure
the difference
contrary weather so far
this winter
as I think
sleet
(or freezing rain)
is rain or snow that will not
make up its mind
which is
all right except a kind
of misery to be out
in
Saturday if church
we believe
we don’t believe
sometimes in the same person
often
in the same
in fact
I could say me
I could say
you
not
to judge or estimate
except to claim humanity
faithful
faithless
in each of us
temptations
evil as in the prayer
flaws as will worked out
or not
in Eden
a choice
then maybe an affiliation
lightly or heavily
to wear
and yet perhaps
not so much
a burden
as to worry through the seasons
we’re all right
with
the pleasure of peace
in life
also the joy
of
fun that God has made
we well
and heavenward we
Amish-like hope that we
move in
even assured
in faith
errors
are not sins
unless they are designed as
such
but sins we make
and
do not have to mean the end
but like mis-steps we
somehow mean
and can get over
can get up
can get help to lift
resume
the road again
pleasure
peace
joy
fun
resume again as they should
forgiven
redeemed
having gone first
admittedly
so we believe
we don’t believe
but
it ain’t over
Mister Berra
‘til it’s
over
and if gain
and re-gain the faith
it ain’t never over
c l couch
photo by Jodie Walton on Unsplash
Open in Case of Regrets
Oh
It’s Friday
And a Valentine’s
And loneliness
The watchword of the day
Because
We culturally
Say so
Which is too bad since
Each day is a gift of twenty-four
With
Sixty minutes each
Which is one thousand four hundred
Forty for
A number that
Numerically
Is
Something of a gift to have
For each of us
And if you’re sad today
For whatever reason
Then
I’m sorry
By way of fractured sympathy
Since I don’t know you well enough
For whole
And
Still
I wish you well
And maybe you have those
Near
To whom
To reach
And there should be trust
To say
How are you
And may I tell you
How I am
C L Couch
(next year replace the Friday with I don’t know a Saturday I should think)
Photo by Linus Belanger on Unsplash
drop of love
(a phrase by GraceoftheSun)
which has me think
of the Rubaiyat
of Omar
Khayyam
(because I guess there
could
be other rubaiyats)
in which
we
famously do
read
a loaf of bread
a jug of wine
and thou
(translated)
and maybe such a drop
could be poured
from
such a jug
to share and make the love
sometimes in wine and often
in poetry
clc
Thanks, Grace!
https://graceofthesun.com/gesture/
photo by Yucel Moran on Unsplash
the USA penny
(for Lincoln’s birthday on the twelfth of February)
it is our first coin
it is ubiquitous
it is
of course
an honor
that goes both ways
in that
we might be honored to
carry him
say
in a purse or
in a pocket near the hip
or thigh
and should we
change
well
our change
when we’ve decided that we
don’t have to say
ninety-nine to avoid
calling
the next dollar up
maybe
the penny will go out
to the darkness
on the pages
inside
of
numismatists
we’ll carve his imagine onto
a greater coin or
print him
on a bill of altitudinous
value
or find
some way
still everywhere to have him
near
remembering
by what credit he may
own
(and
does)
the nation that
should be
ours
all
of ours
all
and so maybe toward
a virtuous
such an integral
legacy
as well
c l couch
photo by Acton Crawford on Unsplash
penny floor tiling at the Maven Hotel
Denver, Colorado (USA)
yesterday I posted a poem for Presidents Day (USA), which for some reason I thought was yesterday and not a week from then; well, if you’re looking for something for the day, now you’ll be ready—and sorry
presidence
today is a day
for
Presidents
we know because of
time off
and the sales
but for Presidents
there have some good ones
and some
bad
ones
and we might say that’s
only human
but in addition to conniving
of the parties
and the money
behind
the money
there is will
as well
and so many words to affirm
in ideals
to the nation
that provide
no excuse
for not
trying to serve
us
which is the only reason
the position was
created
though partisans might differ
but
the one
and following
the preamble plus
everything that follows
must confirm
c l couch
photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash
on snowy evenings
an early evening when
sleet pings on the window pane
behind me
while I write
and try to write
to say something not likely
pithy
yet a touch
maybe to a point
and to
confess it
or to let
the setting like
the season stand alone
the dark and cold and icy rain I know
and thinking of a friend’s
father
who died last night
surrounded by faithfulness
it seems
and yet
I’m sad for her
and maybe I should let the night before
and the night behind me
do the talking
now
about
what feels separate and
in faith
might not be
a union shown by fact
someday
c l couch
photo by Anastasia Zolotukhina on Unsplash
the quiet hour sings
without music or lyrics
symphonic peace plays
c l couch
(to me, the haiku is hard—but it’s Friday afternoon going late, and this came to mind and got with some revision on the page
if you may and can, I hope you have a pleasant winter—or whenever it might be, where you are—weekend)
photo by Luise and Nic on Unsplash
Icy Day Is All
May I tell you of the day
It’s icy here
It patterned on the windows
Through the night
With some layers now
And so
Many schools cancelled
With
So many lawsuits
Avoided
We can be litigious with our ice
And also neighborly
In that
My friendly neighbors downstairs
(upstairs
another verse)
Look to have scraped off my
Car
In the right way that heart disease
Can ill afford
In fact
My doctors say
Don’t do it
Pleasantness in winter
Then
Profundities aside
I’m simply
Thankful
C L Couch
Photo by Clay Banks on Unsplash
2 poems about, I don’t know, the extraordinary ordinary
don’t unappreciate the day
the trees are gray
now
no longer black
the sky even paler than
it was
and hazy
both being a gift
if dull
a dull gift
and not that there’s evil
so we know the good
so as
a gray so we know the cheering
colors
on
arrival
better
the dullness forms the shadows
after all
and we have need
for three
dimensions
(if
not more)
gray trends sometimes
and do these other
neutral
shades or call
them natural
either way
to call the season
then
to sell
and there is more
for real
in having so much that is
available on
Earth
and to the hearing
smelling
tasting
touching of
you know
(phatically)
so much
please hurry up
(the practical Eliot)*
shall I have more coffee
or
do I dare
to eat
a peach
I could talk about the part
for the hair
though it always seems to go
to the
center
after trials over
years
and did I hear the mermaids song
then from land perhaps
the answer of
another
siren song
and if I walk along the shore
will the competing songs
from land
from ocean
through the air
lead
me to the cave in which
the extra treasure
that
Aladdin couldn’t use
might reside and just for me as if
a spirit said
this is yours
and it’s your time
c l couch
*dealing (over years) with T. S. Eliot, the writer of “The Wasteland,” “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,” as well as the famous book about practical cats; citations are paraphrased (the layout paraphrased from the part about the peach)
photo by Ahmed on Unsplash
clcouch123 
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