Saint Nicholas gold
in secret by night windows
chimneys correlate
c l couch
for Saint Nicholas Day, 6 December (19 east of west)
photo by American Jael on Unsplash
Wichita
(somehow the magic)
(x = space)
x
x
A Gift from Western Asia to the World
(on the day of Saint Nicholas)
x
God
It’s dark
The light is coming
Like Immanuel
Who’s here
And always coming
To the call of the season
Advent
After all
x
Like the advent of the airplane
Or hybrid roses
Bred intentionally
Everywhere
x
For good or ill
We co-invent new things
And yet in a dark street
Like my own
With one light for company
You came into
The world
Seemingly deserted
Certainly bereft
Of a savior
Who would match divinity
With barbarism
To save us
All barbarians
x
Who knew nothing
Of an inner life
With you
Except by accident
Of prophets
And some other heroes
So that we knew of virtue
And your name
Beyond your name
But in a real way
To have such things
Well
We were lost
x
And in that town
Razed and rebuilt
So many times
Under one light
You came
Nicene
Human and
Divine
To bridge the damnable gap
That we had built
Through consequence
Of sin for will
And simply keeping
Only
To our side
x
To bring us over
Come to us first
As at the first
There was creation
And now
Reconciliation
For the one-sided
Who remain
Lost that way
x
And shall you give by grace
To every generation
Hope in each one born
Offered many times
In each one’s
Life
To appreciate what’s on the other side
Of you
And us
To model the walking over
Four ourselves
And for our children
x
And shall we call this grace
Of something else
It is the same
The offer of salvation
Through bridge-building
In the flesh
Of your child
The child that’s you
And us
Somehow
x
The advent
And the miracle
On arrival
x
Such wonder
Such bliss
A reality
In the making
That the world needs
And typically doesn’t know
Until we meet you
And teach us
All about the bridge
Live on both sides
At last
And then offering
By will
To take us to the middle
And we both
Also with steps of our own
Pass to the other side
x
All of which to say
Merry Christmas
Maybe we’ll see you
In this room
At this place
On Earth
And everywhere
And at the bridge
The most
Extraordinary gift
You are
For us
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Darya Tryfanava on Unsplash
x
Dear Santa Claus,
(not a child’s letter)
I believe in you
All the yous
We’ve owned some magic
From the original story
Though I try to keep
The faith from that one,
Too
We wish, don’t we?
We wish like another saint
That all be well
She has more faith than I,
Claiming that
“All shall be well”
But I have hope
I don’t have much to ask
This year except for
Reading glasses, extra-large socks
(they feel better)
Maybe, maybe a new winter
Coat—in these parts, it does get cold
Wait, how boring is my list?
Each day bears its own need for wishes
I can take part in these
If my list should go beyond
Then
I can ask for love, romantic and
Erotic (yes, at my age)
Though really
The kind that keeps
Not only on a shelf (in case I should
apologize for all the elves)
But on both sides
Of the doors
Of the human hearts
Involved
So I’ll close, dear Santa Claus
Thanking you for Sandy Paws
And all the softer
And the harder things that
I must keep for Christmas
Trying for year-‘round
With love
And respect,
Robin
C L Couch
A Note on Names
Robin
Is a nickname
For Christopher,
Hood, or Goodfellow
I’d choose Topper second
But neither name of these names counts
The rules say nicknames
Can’t be self-selected
(though Lewis somehow decided on
“Jack” and got to keep it),
Rather gained, for better or worse,
At home or on the playground
By good fellows
(male and female)
Or maybe, maybe in a hundred-acre wood
When we were
Very young
Image by TanteTati from Pixabay
(image above) Vincent Guth on Unsplash
Iceland lake, Northern Lights
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