Search

clcouch123

I talk you talk we'll talk

Open Search
Tag

Swimming

Waiting the Hour

Waiting the Hour

 

I used to swim a lot

Back and forth across the pool

Down to the bottom, where

There was clarity up-close

I learned the different strokes

And what was then

Life-saving

I’m unsure how that’s changed,

What’s preferred about

Administering the kiss of life

And such

Eventually, I would tire

But there was such a store

To keep me going then

To bring me back next day

Heat in the air, cold water

The extremes were not the issues

I’m only sick

I will recover,

Which means I’m overdoing

Over-something

When I’m better I’ll, you know,

Test the waters

 

C L Couch

 

 

Photo by Zbysiu Rodak on Unsplash

Calle de San Andrés, Golf del Sur, Spain

 

0

Lent 4

Lent 4

 

Swimming is fine

Be careful not to go so deep

There is no air

Unless you have an aqualung

And a buddy

Yes, God is there

Above, beneath, within

But scuba gear exists for a reason

Even inside a metaphor

Remember the old saw

About the person in a house

Surrounded by a rising flood

Who had a warning from the radio

To leave,

Then offers from neighbors in a boat

And a helicopter pilot who had espied

This captive on the roof

And lowered the machine

And this person, trapped, then was drowned

 

Then was mad at God in heaven

I thought you’d protect me, was the

Complaint—and the response?

I gave a radio warning, a ride with your

Neighbors, a seat in a helicopter:

Why are you here?

 

We can help each other

Share old sayings and

Find a new of saying things

Today

We should let that happen

 

C L Couch

 

 

Hard rain on a roof covered with felt and tar paper in Gåseberg, Lysekil Municipality, Sweden. Original version. The yellowish dots on the roof are lichen.

W.carter – Own work

 

0

Swimming

Swimming

 

My father used to swim the sound

I don’t know what that means, the sound

Since if ever I had seen it

I was two

But he swam it, and I guess

That was a distance

Puget Sound

He was the only engineer not to work

At Boeing

He chose the aluminum company instead

That sent him to Pittsburgh finally

Where the children finished growing up

That was fine

I like Pittsburgh

 

Anyway, to Puget Sound

And boats and ships and sails and I’m

Sure great engines

A life outside

I’ve had some of that, though

I did not wear an open shirt and a

Fedora on my head (yes, like Indiana Jones), stood

By the campfire, near which

Strings of fish were bound to sticks

And lines

Close by all the gear and even some guns

For pheasants and frankly

For rattlesnakes

These are the photographs and

The stories

 

How was he formed

And what did he leave?

And why do I have Northwest

Roots I do not know

 

At two, I picked blueberries for my

Grandmother

A memory I fight for

To conjure

To keep

 

C L Couch

 

1

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑