snow

2 poems about the snow

2 poems about the snow that’s on its way

(and now is falling)

Happy Weather People

The sky is full

Nothing surprising there

It should be snowing soon

I don’t like where

The car is parked,

Though I suppose anywhere

Along the street

It’s going to be plowed against

When the trucks with the

Big blades go by

Records will be broken,

So they say;

The forecasters actually are

Excited on the TV screen

With big maps projected behind

Them—well, sure things

Probably don’t

Come their way so often,

Lucky them

For now

New Testament

(December, MidAtlantic USA)

Yes, it’s cold

For now, I’m not worried

Should I lose the electricity,

I might die

But I’m inside

Not everyone gets to be

And some are inside hospitals

Too many, in fact

Because the disease

Is moving toward a spike, again

There is a better message

Still to be sworn in

And better methods in the offing

We’ll all get our shots,

Eventually

And deal with side effects

The chart will have point

And then slide down

The other side

At least, that’s the plan

Many people

Even when silenced

Or at least shouted down

Have worked on this

And we need

To trust their skill,

Attested by the numbers

Going down

And we can say

This was

Our generation’s 1918 influenza

To count

To bury

And to weep

C L Couch

Photo by Andrew Ridley on Unsplash

Cairngorms National Park, Ballater, United Kingdom

National Park, Ballater, United Kingdom

Pile of Leaves

December 16, 2020 2

Fear of Visigoths

(x = space)

Fear of Visigoths

Now is the penultimate:

The warning

On a moving map,

Digitized attesting to

The storm that’s on its way.

There is an open sun

Just now

Belying all aggression in

A strategy of sky—thank goodness

That we know

We have a day

To run through all

Remaining shelves

That might have inventory.

Barbarian invasions

Of the nervous system—what

The virus doesn’t take,

White digits

Of snow warning will.

C L Couch

Photo by Scott Walsh on Unsplash

Toronto, Canada

Night Job

December 15, 2020 0

Introductions

(x = space)

Introductions

Snow on my small town in

The MidAtlantic of

The USA,

Nothing dramatic—

It falls and stays

On quiet places

Such as grass

And parked cars,

While on the things that

Sponsor movement

There is only wetness,

Dark and clean:

On streets and sidewalks,

Moving cars,

And such

From the waist up,

It seems November

Today we’re met

With winter

(here and now)

Not in discontent,

A week before it’s due by

The saint’s calendar

We should take it

A decency

In an indecent year

C L Couch

Photo by Aditya Vyas on Unsplash

December 14, 2020 3

First Snowfall

First Snowfall

It’s a muffled Sunday morning

That started late last night

With the first snowfall of the season

I brushed off the car as best I could

And started the slow drive back

From friends’ to my apartment

It’s the kind of snow that gathers as it falls

The kind that quiets everything

Except reports of shovels on the walks

Especially at night, these are louder

Once inside, I heard them for a while

Counting out the measure

Of a post-lapsarian world

C L Couch

Kairo Kiitsak‏ @kairokiitsak

Moderate snowfall in parts of #Estonia this evening 19.03.2018. #libetee #lumi

January 13, 2019 0

Brief Liturgy for Snow

Brief Liturgy for Snow

(an ordinary time)

God, you’re sending snow

So far, so good

In my unqualified estimation

It’s the first snow of the year for us

Colorado beat us days ago

Not to mention all the places where

The snow is perpetual

But we have it here like a new thing

Descending slowly, almost gently

Practice for the season

Dangerous? always

There’s danger in many things

At least this is attractive

And for now I’m cold in a way

That’s good, that works

I grieve for those for whom

Even this is too much

And hope my widow’s mites might do

Some good

It all might be gone tomorrow

Rain is in the forecast

C L Couch

Photo by ChristineMakhlouf on Unsplash

November 15, 2018 1

31 January 2016 (in the global north)

31 January 2016
(in the global north)

I still wake up with jittery feelings. The sun is bright. The snow is melting down. Maybe I need it gone. But is that the boundary of my fear? I sit and look outside to see the beauty. I am inspired to come back and write a verse of two. Still, fear jumps inside me. At least it doesn’t leap. I’ll feel better, once I write a bit. Drink a hot drink, maybe take a pill or two pills. I know that on a good day my heart still operates in an iffy way. I know that what happened here was momentous. It’s momentous, still, outside. As in ancient Arabian architecture, I cherish space and righter light. Not simply looking out into amorphous glare. Rather the view of a virtuously bright and blue-skied world above with earth of desert browns beneath. Through arches made of genius and of grace, numbering the stars within each stone’s embrace.

I dream this is all easier, if not delightful, in a desert paradisal scene. Where arid becomes beautiful and free air moves through all, spirits borne and carried along. Maybe heaven’s healing wind will pause and wave upon me there, and I will feel and know something of the serene aspect of God.

Too much romance and earthly-bound, I know. But I need this. My fear frankly needs it, as does my hope and peace.

February 1, 2016 0