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This Autumn Morning
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Gray with
A patch
Of red
Inside black
Branches
Red leaves
Attached
Maybe until
A winter wind
Comes to
Take them
Through the
Air until the
Breath’s expired
Then gravity
Must have
Its way and
Like the roots
We can see
And-or touch
Must lie upon the
Earth
And inside
For a while
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C L Couch
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Joshua Tree National Park
Photo by Matt Artz on Unsplash
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Slight Season
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The sun is out
I should be going to it
There might be chill
It might be fall
At last
Not too soon to winter, please,
Which is the trouble
With the seasons in-between
Their timing seems so fragile
When
Arriving
Surprising, when it seems
They stay a good, long while
Leaving the severities
To themselves
And their own time
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C L Couch
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Photo by Jana Shnipelson on Unsplash
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Look Now
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I pulled on the window shade
The old-fashioned kind
I got stuck with
Gray all around
I suspect another strange fall day
Too hot in the eastern USA
This year
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It takes a couple tugs
But without the absurd length
That it can get to,
The shade goes up
And it might be too hot
But the leaves that look at me
Inches from the glass
Are autumn first
Colors mixed with summer green
Red and orange, yellow
All say hi
(green sighs)
We are here
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It is the season, anyway
And I am thankful
Whose formality comes
Later on
With cornucopia
Thick tablecloths
And such
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And while there is no peace
There is small, sustaining
Joy
In nature’s
Hello in the season
Outside
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C L Couch
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Photo by eberhard 🖐 grossgasteiger on Unsplash
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Equinoxic
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Is it really in the sixties?
That is so nice
Today or tomorrow
Is the equinox
And fall will be official
We want it to be fall, I think
The leaves to turn
The air to be a challenge
Time for coats
And yellow schoolbuses
Easier to see
Take care
Autumn has its challenges
Practice looking out
For trick-or-treaters
First frost
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C L Couch
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in the northeast of the USA, northern hemisphere
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I looked at the temperature and said to myself the first two lines
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Photo by Jason Leung on Unsplash
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Indian Summer
(in 2020)
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It’s hot now
In the Northeast, and it’s
November
I recall something called
Indian Summer to explain
It
I don’t know if
That’s an offensive reference
I always thought that
It spoke to knowledge that
Native Americans had that
Those of us who only
Knew suburbia
Did not have,
Could not
Maybe not a secret knowledge
But a close knowledge of the land
And all the agencies
Of nature
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I could look it up
But today some Republicans are
Fighting the results of elections
That were won by millions
And their surrogates
(where applicable)
And I’m worn out over biases,
Even though they tell us who
We are on a good day
Without the evil platform
Others try to make of them,
One side or another
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So I’ll keep the second summer
For a little while,
Get smarter tomorrow
Issue apologies, if need be
My bias, by the way,
Is for a return
To chilly autumn
And wanting to believe
In election
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coda
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Okay, I looked it up
It is a term applied
By colonizers
(so is evident)
But so is Indian
That, I must admit, even
As a child seemed odd
To me:
Once the mistake
Columbus and the Europeans
Made was understood,
Why didn’t we change
The term?
And here’s a thought—we didn’t we
Ask them?
And why don’t we now?
They’ve got a term
An understanding
They refer to all of themselves
As “the people”
(translating and transcribing)
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We the people,
Fancy that
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C L Couch
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Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash
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Too Good a Day
(not really)
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Blue and green
And black and brown,
All in their places
It’s a grand day—
Pretty as a picture,
Some might say,
Though I think it goes
The other way around;
The dust-bunnies
Could come out
To play except that
I would see them,
Which is the drawback:
The sun is good upon
The rugs, and I can see
Everything I should
Be picking up
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C L Couch
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Photo by Mathew Schwartz on Unsplash
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(x = space)
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Waves
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What do I want
To say to you
That it’s a lovely day
In an eccentric way
Everything is played down
The takeover of fall
Changing tones on trees
And on the ground
Everything played down
Under a graying sky
With brighter sunlight
Coming through
From time to time
As if the wind
(I see it on the leaves)
Were pushing the clouds out
Or the sunlight in
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C L Couch
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Photo by Fineas Anton on Unsplash
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A Race for Prophecy
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The headaches have decreased
Somewhat
There’s a band of pain around my head,
But it is less severe
Shall I tell you of all my other pains,
Maybe adding sad stories as I go?
No, you’ve borne with enough so far, and I
Am grateful
It is a blue day outside and on the tress
The last of summer green
Now is the race for colder air, the kind that
Will render brilliance to the dying leaves
Before the new season earns its
Name
And on the ground a greater mass of
Wilted monochrome than the riot in diversity
I and so many cherish
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C L Couch
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Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash
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Contact
The markers of the season have
Arrived:
Cold rain, color in the leaves
Paradox in brilliance dying
It’s in our lore;
It’s why we conflagrate the phoenix
C L Couch
Photo by Hamed Daram on Unsplash
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