Dust Bunnies at Play

(x = space)

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Dust Bunnies at Play

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When the winter sun is low

And everything on the floor

Is illuminated,

I spy

The dust bunnies come out to play

I say,

Hey, dust bunnies

Go back under things and behind things

Where I don’t know you’re there

They say,

No,

And don’t think to play with us

Your games are too tall and too hard

And I think they glare at me

And in their hearts

Have already gone back to play

Without me

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C L Couch

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(my, this could be done with children and with gestures—low, lit up, bunnies, under, behind, play, tall, hard, glare, hearts, play (again), without me)

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Story of little bunny Peter that came across whole Italy:)

I don’t know this story

Do you?

I don’t recommend having a bunny

On the dashboard

Unless you’re parked

Or it’s navigating

Photo by okeykat on Unsplash

Rome, Italy

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Anyone want to illustrate this story?

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Easter Saturday

(x = space)

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Easter Saturday

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I think it might be

Easter Saturday

On someone’s calendar,

The week having begun,

You know,

With Easter Sunday

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But now the bunnies

That lay eggs

Must return to their

Warrens of marvels

While the quotidian battle over

How much chocolate

Resumes

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Many-colored eggshells

Will be swept away

With plastic grass

Found throughout the house

‘Til Christmas

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As for Easter in our hearts

I’m not sure what

To say:

I hope we have it

As a feeling and an impulse

That doesn’t have to be

The Christian way

But simply good

Like contentment sighs

At the end of day

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Before then,

Worn out from trafficking

In virtue—

Yes, I said it

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It exists

In certain texts of the past,

I know

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Better still, inside-outside

Now,

Which works out because

Now is what we have

And all we have

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C L Couch

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Photo by Sandy Millar on Unsplash

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Quasi una Fantasia

(x = space)

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Quasi una Fantasia

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More gray skies—

I know the sun is healthier

But the gray doesn’t show

The dust bunnies in

Their warrens, which

Creatures I’ve

Discovered like to roam

The place at night,

Which is why there are

So many new signs

In the morning

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Like gray skies, I’ve come

To like dust bunnies;

They do not eat real carrots,

And the only thing

Like pellets is

More dust upon the floor

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C L Couch

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Photo by Mattia Astorino on Unsplash

Riserva Naturale Torbiere del Sebino d’ Iseo, Corte Franca, Italia

I see you

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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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The Tell

(x = space)

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The Tell

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Another dark day

Good for hiding dust

No doubt the motes are flying, still

Informing the dust bunnies

Where to warren

Why not dust cats or

Dust crocodiles, I do not know

But we may delight

In invisible inhabitants,

All the same

The pixies that our cultures tell us

Do and don’t exist

The magic inside

Each of our stories, especially

Once shared

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Pull up some chairs, the four of us

Let’s play some cards

And, please, let’s talk

It isn’t tourney play, you know

Let’s show something of

Ourselves besides

The tells

We don’t think we have

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C L Couch

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photo by The New York Public Library on Unsplash

playing cards in a bar-room near Reserve, Louisiana

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