Well, I collapsed. Without warning. By the car, outside the store. It was hot and the lot was asphalt, though I was told later on that heat was not the reason (yet unpleasant). Ventricular tachy-cardia. For which I have new medication now, while adjustments have been made to the device underneath the flesh, as it were. And I lived in fear and nervousness while in the hospital, even though the people there were very good to me. It’s the “without warning” part that scares me in addition to mortality.
I exhale now; I sigh. What will happen. But I guess no one knows. Though usually one can guess depending on the current second and the next one, should we have it. And we live expecting that we shall. I have some extra air on me, which helps with the anxiety. Pills to take, then hours to count on and even bear up into a useful mound of current muscle that can be used toward something good. Some small service. Some smaller destiny.
I hear the rain against the window and am thankful.
Thank you. I mean you who hear this, too (who are frankly reading and are frankly reading), and mainly in the moment.
Thanks to you.
to eternity (even from here)
somewhere there was a first creation
first nothingness
first abstractions
of the light
and of the darkness
then the substances
of day
and night
and how marvelous
and then more substances
of water
then of land
and all things
in the water
on the land
how marvelous
an evolution
of grace
and power
that decided to make
to turn around
as on a wheel
an Earth
and on it
us
and then a day
to rest
also
to set the model
for the rest of us
(even
to invent
a weekend)
and also
set the model
for delight
for it was marvelous
all this making
and to set us all
inside it
over it
and with it
work
then play
astounding play
with muscle and with heart
(also) contributions
of the sixth day
or thereabouts
somewhen there was a first day
of creation
and among the things
made
was now
is now
the hours that we have
(nothing like sixty minutes
that are
a useful construct)
the time in the years
of the Lord
until the Lord say
enough with all the brittleness
of sin
and literal degradation
time for the re-making
into fluidity
and solidarity
that last
and do not use up so much
the graying molecules
with the withering grass
and flower
from the center
where mortality
has been dwelling
time for something new
marvelous re-making
(not like Fernando)
into the kind
of sloughing off of cells
that perfectly
shall feed the grass
and raise the trees
keeping inside
the new creation
and
who knows
we might get
to take part
in all this
wonder
(marvel)
like
sand between the toes
like children playing
knowing that this
serves
grown-up causes
too
children knowing this
for growing up
with new allowance
to grow up
a glorious day
as certain songs
have sung
and keep on singing
on the bitter ground
the tarny water
even
of the way
we have things now
maranatha
Lord
and as
Immanuel
be with us
as at Bethlehem
for birth
through all of the experiences
there
throughout western Asia
northern Africa
unto Europe
and the world
as we have marked it
finally
no borders as
seen from those of us
who get
to orbit
except for lines
of wonder
become only invitations
to the flesh of interest
colors that fascinate
with shapes
and textures
for our learning
in delight
for we keep learning
growing
through Parousia
and the new tasks
even exigent
that might be set before us
in what happens
now
c l couch
photo by Eugene Golovesov on Unsplash
By the Light of a Gray Day
Comfort in small things
A blanket folded, ready
Lamplight showing golden through
A translucent black shade
Old copper cooking instruments
Set on the wall
Stacks of books here and there,
Which should be smaller
Burnished parts of furniture,
Others left alone
Muted colors and some bold
Rounded shapes and just a few
Right angles
Yes, it’s in the room
Everything that gladdens without telling
A hymn that plays beneath
Unruly thoughts and actions
All above
Small art here and there
A hope for more
C L Couch
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash
Saksun Church, Nordic Church
One More Thing
It’s what we notice at the time
And then dismiss
The shape of a sleeve inside a cuff
The way a button pushes through
The opening
The sounds made by all the doors we
Open every day
Then close
They’re not important
Part of the texture of the day
I seem to recall George Bailey pulling
Off the stairpost knob, most every
Time
Then once he thought to throw it through
A window, maybe at
The Christmas tree
We have these, too, the moments
When
Nothing satisfies
These we should remember
For any needed reparations
Restoratives, you know,
To get our day back
C L Couch
Peter Falk – Wikipedia
Wikipedia
Columbo Peter Falk 1973.JPG

A Free Writing Prompt for You: What makes you grateful? How do you say, “Thanks”?
from Jacki K
response and illustration
Is that free writing or freewriting? I’ll probably respond to both. And with. Okay, I start.
Finding something lost makes me feel grateful. And I say thanks. To hear good news from family makes me feel grateful, too.
Longer time on earth—and I like being here, by the way—means loss. Someone dying is not about me, but I can’t help but take it personally. I think we’re supposed to, actually. After all, after death the issues are for those us remaining.
With losses that are severe—yes, loss of life but also loss or lessening of health and means and prospects—the small things to be thankful for mean more. I mean, I suppose losses in life could lead to bitterness, though as a lifestyle I try to move myself away from that. Maybe when I’m old and all alone, I’ll give in.
So lost keys, then. And that one piece of paper with information on it that I need. Sleeping a number of hours without obvious break. A day of color, whatever the season. Which would include a cardinal on the snow. Something new and interesting I see when I drive by. A new-to-me old building to admire or a community announcement that shows the town alive. Remembering to have grabbed exactly what I needed on my way outside the door.
There are many things. Imagine yours.
I do say thank-you and perform small courtesies in kind. Whatever the reaction is matters, though not so much. The joy is in the giving. And so is thankfulness. Small things to be thankful for are gifts and courtesies. I’m a better person when I know these and acknowledge them.
Aren’t we better people for saying and receiving thanks? Giving or receiving? Both? You’re welcome. And thank you.
C L Couch
for the image, kennethkeiferphotography.zenfolio.com (from Google Images)

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