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evening

After Evening Service

(x = space)

x

x

After Evening Service

x

We could keep vigil

On toward midnight

When the new day is called

x

A horn might be too much

But inside the church

The organ might be released

To greet the day

Subdued for lateness of the hour

Wanting to be good neighbors

Give our hearts some quiet room

As well

x

I guess “midnight vigil” sounds

A quiet thing

To us

I’m sure in other lands

It does not go that way

There are noisy fanfares

Calls as announcement

Calls to prayer

Calls to say

(to play)

Even to shout

x

This is a new day

Of the Lord

And the Lord’s creations!

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Adrian Dascal on Unsplash

Washed Away Night

Midnight in Saint George, Romania

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Who Knows How to Live

(x = space)

x

x

Who Knows How to Live

(not a question)

x

It’s evening now,

An old movie is on TV

If there were a cat

As there has been,

She would be sleeping

Until she wakes, eats

Something, demands

Face-rubbing, then

Goes to sleep again

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by MILKOVÍ on Unsplash

Los Gatos Theatre, Los Gatos, United States

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Remembering a Song Often Sung on Sunday Night

(x = space)

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x

Remembering a Song Often Sung on Sunday Night

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O God, our help in ages past

Our hope for years to come

x

It’s Sunday night

And the chapel service is ending

We’ll all be leaving soon

To ponder Monday morning

Then what should be done tonight

That might be done

And what will be ignored because

The sabbath time

Is measured, still

x

Our shelter from the story blast

And our eternal home

x

Sometimes it’s too dark

And quiet

The winter will be worse

Not to be bored or frightened

We don’t fear wolves

Or wolverines so much, anymore

Except the allegories

We encounter Monday morning

x

Time like an ever-rolling stream

Bears all its sons away

x

Daughters are as sons

All are borne by mortal time

Away from what we know

Into a mystery

That we believe has

A final solution

x

They fly forgotten as a dream

Dies at the opening day

x

The scripted dream

Cannot be retained

Maybe it’s a contract

Between imagination

And the ages

Some keep a journal

About retaining something

The week begins,

Regardless

With the night, the dawn

And then the waking hours

Everything we know

Pushing away

What subconscious rules there are

When sleeping

Plus working out in

One brief act after another

Who the playwright is

Who will not let us

Keep our lines

x

Amen

x

C L Couch

x

x

Photo by Deleece Cook on Unsplash

Cambeltown, Australia

x

Fall into Night

Fall into Night

 

Having slept late,

Perforce,

To my condition

 

It’s too soon

Now, the three-o’clock

Time when

The day turns

As it must

Toward autumnal

Night

 

And we notice,

If subcutaneous,

The knowing

Sense of

This;

 

Inside autumn leaves

We face

Alternatives:

 

To go dry-wilting

Into brown days

Or to

 

Flame like novae

 

In glory of

Expiring red,

Yellow tears or

Tears,*

Last bright orange

Bleeding

 

Dwindling into

Joyful or stressed

Evenings

Of our

Distinctive seasons

 

 

*reader’s choice

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