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seasons

Agapāte

Agapāte

 

Yesterday was a pretty day, you know

I took a step outside and breathed

The air was warm and cool and good

My neighbor passed by,

And we talked about the start of winter,

Which might have been at that moment

It could stay this way, we posited

With no power over seasons

 

In the south, I know it’s summer

We might think that’s wrongway

 

From there, we are the backward time

Turvy-topsy, as it were

I hope it’s a good summer

I hope we have a decent winter

In all the midland places

And extremes

I have no idea what we deserve

Thank goodness better love

Doesn’t count that way

 

C L Couch

 

 

Wild0ne / 269 images

https://pixabay.com/en/drop-wet-h2o-icicle-clean-cold-3065629/

 

A Season with God

A Season with God

 

I don’t know what happens next

Neither do you

Most of you

I know the lore

I have faith

I think we’re made for now

To think mostly of now

Which is maybe why

Heaven is so distant

And raked over with misunderstanding

Like planting the wrong seeds

Allowing the weeds to grow

Until the harvest

When, you know, wheat and chaff

 

Is there more to say

What can answer doubt

Satisfy speculation

Excoriate cynical perspective

The thing is that

All these things are good

Curiosity deserves an elevation

If security is surrendered on the inside

Outer life might wreck from time to time

Inside life rebuilt time and again

The surgery of synthesis

 

Yesterday, today, tomorrow

Like or as the words by G or S, this kind

Of time

Creeps apace

And should we not be shattered

By bombs or disbelief

The day before takes root

Today become a seed

Tomorrow promises a crop

 

Don’t leave it here

I’d like to meet you later on

And, you know, be met

When time is all time

All days all at once

 

C L Couch

 

 

Season Wallpapers 2 – 1920 X 1200 | stmed.net

stmed.net

 

Fall into Night

Fall into Night

 

Having slept late,

Perforce,

To my condition

 

It’s too soon

Now, the three-o’clock

Time when

The day turns

As it must

Toward autumnal

Night

 

And we notice,

If subcutaneous,

The knowing

Sense of

This;

 

Inside autumn leaves

We face

Alternatives:

 

To go dry-wilting

Into brown days

Or to

 

Flame like novae

 

In glory of

Expiring red,

Yellow tears or

Tears,*

Last bright orange

Bleeding

 

Dwindling into

Joyful or stressed

Evenings

Of our

Distinctive seasons

 

 

*reader’s choice

Weathering

Weathering

 

Storms, fire

Firestorms

 

That’s in California

 

Floods, tornadoes

Water-sheets

And other means

Of rain to strike

At us

 

Texas and in Florida

Where sand is

Bagged by convict

Volunteers—on

North through

Eastern USA

 

River-rise in Paris

Art treasures

Moved toward

More-protected

Ground

 

Certain seasons

Start all over (as

In again and

Everywhere)

 

In nature’s timing

And all storms’

Discretion

 

Selfishly, I am

Well above brick

Walkways and

Macadam streets

 

I have electric

In safe measure—

Mostly, though

Not always:

A tree smashed

Into the house

Not so long ago

 

A favorite book,

The Mighty Acts

Of God, a

Faithful book

 

Nature is God’s,

And the Christian

Claim is God is

Love

 

So what is the

Love here?  It

Id that God loves

Us and leaves

Us the means—even

In, and as, a fallen

World

 

Our part to start

Redress is to resolve

To do so

 

That’s it: resolve

 

(The rest follows)

 

Seasonings

Seasonings

 

Winter was hard

Not because I was cold

But impoverished in

Other ways

 

The white was too much

Too tall, too unusual

For me, anymore

 

I live in the southern part,

Now, of the state

(Okay, a northern state)

And don’t expect such

Walled-off weather

Often, if at all

 

It was anxiety; I took

A pill, and pretended

That would be enough

 

Now spring is here

I wonder which came first:

The verb or the season’s

Name

 

I could look it up

But I’m not sure that

Would tell me

 

Ancient stories, after

All, have variants

 

Winter and summer

Are, as coined by my folk-

Literature teacher,

Hilda Kring—they are

Characternyms

 

We know what they

Are because value

And form make sound

Thar tell us

 

But the other two,

Spring and fall, might be

Named for what they

Do—or what we do is named

For what they’ve done,

First and longer

 

We’ll, I’ll spring

 

Then you and I, we’ll

Summer (because

We know what

That means), and then

 

Let’s drop like leaves

Of fall, onto an Earth

Softened by snow

And ice, dew and rain,

 

And the gentle

Wearying

Of all other

Seasons

 

 

(Hilda Kring was a professor of

folklore and folk-literature at

my college, while I was a student

there; she made the term

“characternym” for names of

characters who sounded like what,

in depiction, they were, such

as Uriah Heep in David Copperfield

–and maybe Copperfield

himself; she requested someone

to publish this term for her and to

her credit–and here is my try,

“characternym” from Doctor Hilda Kring)

Equinoxing

Equinoxing

It’s so weird
Weirding
To watch the sun pass over
In front of the house
On its way west
So early in the day

But that’s how it is
This side of the planet
With the way we keep
Time and the pereceptions
Realized this way

What if we measured differently
What if we went by lunar time
As many do
Or simply measured seasons
As they felt

Would this day seem so strange
Knowing, as it is, that by three
This afternoon, it will look like
Early evening

Without standard time and
Saving time without the skill
To measure nanoseconds
Would passing moments feel
Differently feel righter
As we might know the
Passing and the tilting
Of our earth

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