Tree of Life
The soul must be amazing
Some say it’s like a bird
And why not
I don’t mean a matter for debate
I mean the spirit that’s inside us
That leaves us when
We can bear no more
Where it catches next, I do not know
Branches in a tree
What has it for keeping
I think it is somewhere
I guess it might be doctrine
And so for argument
To say it owns eternal
C L Couch
Photo by Kushagra Kevat on Unsplash
Floating Illusions
(title in the pile of stories to be read)
The confession of it is
That I’m glad to be here
And for the moment, for today
Don’t have to be
Nowhere else (I play with
the negative)
Or elsewhere
Even if it’s Christmas every day
The good parts
I’ll stay in my mortal place
Where time rolls
And I think I’m on the stepping stones
C L Couch
Photo by John Spencer on Unsplash
Earthly-Minded
Ponder nothing
Take it as it comes
Pondering was yesterday
Then for an hour as a follow-up
Now is the time
For spirit to meet flesh
We have to do something mortal
And again
It’s time, and it’s the life we have
There might be a spark of
The divine
Not to forsake
But there’s the sun with
Outside colors
We must get started
There’s a road
It will not shine this way again
There was a sign
Or simply some hardheadedness
We’ve packed books
Paper and pen with which to write
Impressions
On adventuring
Time to go
The better things are waiting
It’s all right, it’s all still there
Please don’t be ready
A few things, sure
I don’t think we should wait that long
Ourselves
C L Couch
Photo by Josh Appel on Unsplash
Washington Square Park, New York, United States
Gospel According to Rubbermaid
I just opened a box
A small container
I breathed old air that smelled of
Cinnamon and dust
That was all right
That was special
I was thinking of ancient mummy wraps
This was so much better
I guess I had it in the kitchen
Or maybe not
Maybe the box had become
A certain gift over time
Of its own
A sweetness mixed with age
I hear that happens
C L Couch
Photo by Aditya Joshi on Unsplash
A picture taken at a spice stall in the famous spice market in Dubai showing an interesting pattern created by cinnamon sticks on display. With a limited light falling on the subject, the background automatically became dark creating a deep effect.
Mouse Culture
Mouse droppings
Signs of mice
They are old evidence
Except inside the walls, I’m sure
Where they congress
To meet upon important
Mouse subjects
Toward mouse culture
The latest look in traps
Especially the smells
Of things
I’m not talking rats
I believe their meetings grim
Volleys of hissing, punctuating
I mean gray mice
With small dark eyes
The kind of mice we’d rather meet
In fields
And in which
They’d rather find us
Meeting’s over
Crumb patrol, move out
C L Couch
Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash
Sun’s Already for a Break
(am I)
It’s later in the morning
Than I like to write
Pre-pre dawn is fine
But I was going through some
Things
Last night and couldn’t resist
A few more boxes first thing this
Morning—proof I don’t know how
To live
I found some old course papers
Kept a few, since I’ve discovered
Sometimes schools really want
To see such things
Kept some student work beside, because
It was good
I notice I’m breathing
A little more, now
Now I’ve had a chance to lift and sort
Keep and throw out
Pleased to have thrown out things
A few less boxes from the office
Or the office
Or the cubicle
I’m here now, and what I do is
Here for now
Well, I know
I’ll probably like the coffee
C L Couch
Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash
Anna Pauline McAnally Couch
(15 February 1925—13 June 1983)
The day after red and white
And pink
It is the ides of February
My mother’s birthday
Pauline was born in 1925,
Died in 1983
Only in her fifties
Such is the ravaging of cancer
I wish she’d had a better life
She was a singer
I wish she could have sung more
A manager, I wish she could have
Run things more her way
I wish she’d had a partnership
Rather than passive and aggressive,
Which she enabled
And then both of them
Passed it on to me
Before the term
Before its time
I don’t remember the real name now
But she knew Doris Day
Before she was Day
My mother was a Southerner
But had no trace of accent
I’m not sure why
Except maybe it was cultured, then
Not to give away
The humble origins
And hers were humble
To the point of terrible
Orphaned of her father
Let go by her mother
Saved by Methodists somehow
I have the picturesque baptism paper
Moved or was moved
From small-town Tennessee to Cincinnati
Set in two states
(for all intents and purposes),
Both sides of the river
I was her middle child
Maybe it’s fair or at least
Mathematical that I should do
Some chronicling
On her behalf
On this, what would be
What is
Her ninety-fifth birthday
Born in Shelbyville, Tennessee
Died in Cincinnati, Ohio
Lives in heaven
C L Couch
Photo by Gary Bendig on Unsplash
she liked rabbits
All the Saints Are Quick and Dead
(for 14 February, anywhere)
Today’s the day for love
Where were you yesterday?
Out shopping for me?
Nice
But I could use your help
Please don’t let that be a present
If I’m strident, then I’m sorry
But you know how
Things press
And if you don’t, please stay
Roll up your sleeves, as if
To help with dishes
Or the vacuum
(hoovering, they call it)
Or my life
Really, I don’t make it grand
But with you, I’d bear it with style
Let’s sit down
Yes, light a candle
Talk about your small things
And of mine
We can work our way along
To the high and mighty, if we want
Or the inside place
Between extremes
Where each of us lives
All the time
The ministry of saints
Is fine for doctrine
And there’s visitation, too,
I understand
The ministry of presence
Nothing like it
C L Couch
Photo by Andres F. Uran on Unsplash
Alejandro Echavarria, Medellín, Colombia
Candle Fire
By the Light of a Gray Day
Comfort in small things
A blanket folded, ready
Lamplight showing golden through
A translucent black shade
Old copper cooking instruments
Set on the wall
Stacks of books here and there,
Which should be smaller
Burnished parts of furniture,
Others left alone
Muted colors and some bold
Rounded shapes and just a few
Right angles
Yes, it’s in the room
Everything that gladdens without telling
A hymn that plays beneath
Unruly thoughts and actions
All above
Small art here and there
A hope for more
C L Couch
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash
Saksun Church, Nordic Church
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