try
the sun tries
and there’s wind to welcome
blue
to highlight evergreen
with leafless branches whose
slender ballets
look
tireless
and to hear some whispers whose
code
only known between the sky
and these parts
of Earth
try
regardless
and thank goodness
c l couch
photo by Mila Young on Unsplash
(haiku about the gathering storm)
bright day turning haze
storm wind blowing through tree leaves
as the sun leans west
c l couch
photo by rhett sorensen on Unsplash
(x = space)
x
x
Eighth
x
Remember August
Starts in gold
And ends
Overlapping
With the wind
x
The next month is seven
Prior for the emperor
Who never was
And was the first
x
Ten months
And we have twelve
The ones we know
Who count the calendar
Finally
The pope’s way
x
But each month
Has a treasure
In its story
x
This month starts in gold
And ends with
Windy promises
In these parts
Of autumn
x
Unique
What happens
In your days
Divide them up
And celebrate
The units
In your month
And what I hope is your
Many-monthed story
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Thom Milkovic on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Devotionism
x
I talk with God
God talks back
Sometimes through
The trees,
As happened last night
When I went out
Encountering a roar
From a single tree
Near the garage,
A tree that always
Reaches
x
With the wind,
Maybe someone
From someone
Wanting to take notice
Of the night
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Florian Hesse on Unsplash
x
The Cost of Velocity
Wind is all around
Thanks to a machine
I’ll take it
Because sometimes if
We’re lucky, this
Is what we get
Maybe a mountain top would improve
Sensation
But like organic food, so-called
The fashion of the moment
Trips and climbs can’t be
Afforded
Time and money
Abrogated in favor of, you know,
Food (of any kind)
With the need to stay in place
C L Couch
Photo by Amanda Sandlin on Unsplash
Psalm 46
A new world comes
And some would say
It’s here
By your hand, we might
Live in better days
The images we make
For politics or
Entertainment
Are wrung through
With shiny fakery
I think our new day
Will arrive,
Lord,
When we learn to say
I love you to the ground
And to the air
And to the wind we
Cannot see but truly
Feel and have:
When we learn the
Value of unseen things,
We can say I love you
To each other
Then your new day is
Manifest
Ruah
I have a Hebrew
Book; it is
Beautiful
I don’t know Hebrew
(I, feeling like a fool,
Confess)
A few words translated,
Transliterated
Such as ruah
The wind,
The breath
Out of which
Our God
Creates
As I say,
Beautiful
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.
clcouch123 
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