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Desert Talk

(x = space)

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Desert Talk

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A breeze

Does much good

A wind

Is too much

Nothing so severe

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A breeze

Under the arch

Encourages

Either rest or conversation

Encouragement to think

Or talk

To troubles

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Or of the wisdom of God

Known through

The prophets

And perhaps

Revelation

In the breeze

Under the arch,

In our talk

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C L Couch

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Photo by Dim Gunger on Unsplash

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(going west, going east)

(driving out)

 

Misty Mountains, Pennsylvania

 

I travel west on I-76, and it is there:

The Lonely Mountain

 

Higher and set apart from the ridge

That falls away, behind

 

A dragon set atop, searching for

Prey gone to ground

 

Orcs lurk below, ready to battle

Dwarves who stand ready ‘round

The deep tomb of their king at rest,

Diamond earthstar guard upon

His chest

 

I see these shadowed and

Foreshadowed parts of epic

Because

 

Tolkien, the literary mentor, first

Saw his

 

 

(driving back)

 

Rainbow World

 

I drive east on a four-lane reach

Of road, not an interstate so I

Have concerns to watch out

For local traffic

 

It has been raining, now mostly

Stopped with dark clouds in

The distance

 

Yet there must be a band of

Spectrum light somewhere

Because before me is a rainbow

 

That, against grey background,

Shines with every ordered

Color distinct and bleeding

Into from each other

 

Purple into blue into green

Into yellow in orange into red

From blended shades

Between

 

It arches, and I see both ends

Where it leaves the hillside,

Arcs before my car, lands on

More dimly-toned earth in

My direction

 

Of course, I think of Irish

And of argent pots inside with

Their own hills, sun-colored

Coin

 

And the folk who keep it,

Minding with angry magic any

Interloping

31 January 2016 (in the global north)

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.

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