snow on one branch to start
snow on a branch
then move closer to the window
to see the snow
is everywhere outside
of course
and this is good
it’s winter
and it doesn’t look severe
most of this will clear away
and the temperature
supposedly
reach fifty
by
midweek
it’s the kind
to look at
and to watch it fall
as if nothing else is pressing
even though it is
calls for a drink
with rising vapor
and to sit
at something
by the window
take it in
and also think
and feel
far away
this is hardly farm show weather
it is so mild
but it’s the first snowfall
to note
in a year
and will have to do
being an untroubled visitation
on the first day
of
the January fair
c l couch
photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash
(x = space)
x
x
White Out
x
There was hardly any winter;
Now I am nostalgic
x
As I get old
The immediacy of snow
Has sometimes frightened me
x
Am I ready?
(knowing I’m not ready)
x
But now I miss the falling
And the settling
x
Not the extremes, of course,
Or the extremes of heat in summer
But enough that says
Winter is allowed
In our land
x
And I might walk in it
Again
x
So I’m learning, still
(so are you):
I hadn’t thought more generally
And with some surprise
That the bildungsroman
Has never
Finished
x
It goes on bildung-building
(education)
And as roman
A story
Of many chapters
Or a song with many stanzas,
Key transitions,
D. S. to the coda
For life is repeated
Many times,
It seems
Or even improvised
x
And of Shangri-La philosophy
(moderation in all things)
Maybe the winter
Shall return
With some climatic glory
And less (less) fearfulness from
Me
And should anyone
Who feels this way
x
x
C L Couch
x
Photo by Mark Rabe on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Snow Overnight
(the forecast)
x
Snow in the dark
Except where under
Artificial lights,
Maybe like renegades
Outside the windows
Of our homes
Or business locales
x
Over the runway
Through trees
Sleeping gardens
Flying around steeples
It’s there
It might go well
To turn off the lights
Go outside
I have to recommend
In numbers
x
But let them strike our flesh
Faces,
Wrists between our gloves
And sleeves
x
Small hits, the kind that
Most of us can take
With the cold
In thirties Fahrenheit,
Knowing that heat awaits
Inside
After the dance
Or anything to learn
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Robert Katzki on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Isn’t It Romantic
x
Moving shadows write the oldest magic word.
x
Isn’t it romantic
All the snow
Pristine on tops of cars
That shouldn’t have to
Move just yet
x
Sidewalks
Half undone
While scraping shovels
Focused machines
Work on the rest
x
And isn’t it delightful
A snow day
Begging us to stop
Like toys
Wind up to unwind
For an hour
Of contemplation
Reading something new
Or press
Against a favorite
Page or person
x
There are those
Addressing danger
They are blessed
And we should help them
After
The stolen hour is done
When we return
To epiphany
Of ordinary time
x
C L Couch
x
x
“Isn’t It Romantic”
Richard Rogers, Lorenz Hart
x
Photo by Maddy Baker on Unsplash
x
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
Moderate snowfall in parts of #Estonia this evening 19.03.2018. #libetee #lumi
clcouch123 
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