thunder


chapbooklet for wrapping up the workaday week
(should you work this kind of week with its work days)


Guide

I’ve been on trails
And there were guides
And other sites
With guides

Though Mammoth Cave
Through the National Aquarium

I thought I’d like to be a guide
And applied
And got the job
Fort Necessity
But
Too far away
And I was unwell
And so stayed put
Sigh

We think of guides
They do their jobs and then
We put them
Aside
To lead our guideless lives
Except
By ourselves
And anyone who tells us what
To do

And we obey
Or otherwise we go along


Conductoring

I like conducting
I discovered rather late

I have good sense of rhythm
And a good
Sense of pitch

I have directed groups
But did not have the chance
Realities
Subsuming
To get the training I would need
To do it and be taken
Seriously

So I do the phantom thing
As others do
Conduct when no one’s looking

There might be music on
Or all the pieces
All the voices
All the movements
In my head


Southpaw

I am left-handed
Which
Yes
I’m told means I live
In my right mind

Statistically
(I suppose actuarially)
I
Understand
We lead shorter lives
Up to
Five years less

Which seems unfair
For all the terrific baseball-pitching
We
Provide


Guidance Counselor

I think that God guides
Though I’m not sure
Although
Before my doubt should intervene
My instincts
Worldly
Ego-driven
Take over all the choices

Sometimes I withhold
The choice
Long enough to hear
Or note the tug
Of the angel voice
Or pull
To indicate

This is what I should
Do
Where I should go

So I don’t know
It’s not
Negotiation
For we’re not in any
Way
In equal places
Equal parts

And yet
It matters how I listen
How
I respond

My decisions
(predestination notwithstanding)
Seem
To matter

Which might we say
From time to time
To listen to
Your know
The better angels
The other ones
Fallen like us
And yet for that kinship
We must look
To rise
Like the ones who fly


Roll of Thunder

First the lightning
Then the crash right after
Lightning
Close

Then the count took place
Increased
As hours passed
Flashes
Persisted

Though the numbers
Said the lightning had moved on

Inside
No lights flickered
Which
In a dismal state
Added balm to despair’s
Ennui


We Are Closed
(open to what’s next)

The hours close in
The last of the workweek
In my
Current culture

There will be a kind of ending
Paced by exhalations
As we leave
Where we have been for
Hours
Naturally enough

And on our way
(exhaling)
Toward home
Or pubs
Or whatever satisfied
Distracts
Over the connotative weekend


C L Couch


Have a splendid weekend!
(should you have the weekend)


Photo by Hasan Almasi on Unsplash