Lent 26


Sometimes, when I’m afraid

I write

Or when I’m sad


Or frustrated

But if I looked back through my journal

(I haven’t done that often)

I’d find, I believe, expressions of


Sometimes for sleep that didn’t go so badly

Sometimes for coffee in the morning

Sometimes for cold water, when

I’ve arranged it

I don’t know how much happiness I can have

But it seems I can have gratitude

Which has pieces, if only whittlings,

Of the larger parts

Of joy and peace


I think somewhere in there

Might be an invitation, which is

Why I write about this now


Because maybe

You’ll find something in the formula

I didn’t plan, and

I didn’t plan


Simply saying thank you

To the universe, to God

To a spirit, to an angel

For some measure of something

That will, if only as a single pea

(sorry if you don’t like peas, for

I know those who hate them),

Yet add nourishment to the day


A pea can accomplish something

It makes a whistle work

And disturbs the sleep of the



Something small can move along the tale

If only silent thanks


C L Couch



Mateusz Tokarski, ca. 1795 (National Museum in Warsaw)

Mateusz Tokarski – cyfrowe.mnw.art.pl, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=26953289

(still life with peas)