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autumn

This Autumn Morning

(x = space)

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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

(x = space)

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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

(x = space)

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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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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

(x = space)

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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

x

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

(x = space)

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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

Elk County, United States

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Waves

(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

(x = space)

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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

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

Abadan, Iran

 

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