Starry
I guess I’ll leave the stars up there
and make some new ones here
with glue and glitter,
lots of glitter,
sweeping up
after.
And I’ll find a paper-punch
and string
to set them from below at heights and
up high tape or (more) string or something:
maybe,
you know,
a coat-hanger
and use the hook on top
to have a mobile,
stars of mine
and my own dreams.
And if you ask,
I’ll talk about them—stars
and stories,
you know,
share them.
C L Couch
Photo by Borna Bevanda on Unsplash
(x = space)
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Spice
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The flowers
They are ending, I suppose
The ones of summer,
While chrysanthemums
Are having their time outside,
This time
Their time
And we pause and pause
Maybe because it’s raining
Or it’s cold for the first
Time in a while
I’m speaking to where I live,
Which is in eastern Pennsylvania
In the middle of the
MidAtlantic, USA
Wherever you might be,
It’s fall up north
And spring down south where
The flowers that are dying
Here would rather be
So that their color
And their smoother shapes
Might go on,
Though I imagine in a relentless season
There would be end to
Flowers, anyway
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Here, the chrysanthemums
Shall have their way
For a while
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C L Couch
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Photo by Nadiya Ploschenko on Unsplash
today’s mood
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clcouch123 
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