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good news

How They Carry the Good News

(x = space)



How They Carry the Good News


I’m not sure what I’ll

Write today,

But there will be something

Something about me

And you

God and the whole world,

Which we sing is in

God’s hands


I suppose an earthquake

Might mean

That something is slipping through

The fingers,

A flood might mean

Too many tears


The birds might carry news

Carried by the wind,

Another agency


They hear the talking

In the trees

And what stones say

Between buildings

Some shining,

Some in ruins


I guess there are words

From all over Earth

While the moon

Sings in response

And the stars

Oscillate their notes as well

For any

Who are listening


Let those who hear,


With ears

But with supernal apparatus

That repression

Or suppression might affect

But is with us, still

Too deep, perhaps

Though there is

A law of freedom


I’ve heard about


C L Couch



“How They Carried the Good News from Ghent to Aix” is a poem by Robert Browning.


Photo by Christine Benton on Unsplash

At a gymkhana show in Warner Springs. These two make a formidable duo, galloping across the arena and then coming to a sliding stop to make a sharp turn around a pole (out of range to the left). They take my breath away.




The Coast Guard in alliance
With Texas Parks and Wildlife
Rescues six (among these, two
Children) from a sinking ship
Off the shore, out into the
Sea-like water, near Corpus
Christi (a city named for
A savior)

It happened—it really, really
Happened—and it will take
Place again

There is good news

And, somewhere near you
And me, there is good news
As well

Reading The Guardian

Reading The Guardian

I like to read The Guardian
for an outside-USA perspective. (I
like the name, too.) But
today’s Monday-morning headlines
were, I swear, all grim. Even the global
climate accord received political, not
environmental, comment. The only
good news I read about was a promise
from a person not to litigate, not
to sue against unlawful (long and
tortuous) detention at Guantanamo.

I applaud, truly, this one’s
forgiving purpose. But that’s as good
as it got. A withholding of returning
punishment: the avoidance of bad
news from someone being better
than. And so

nothing more?
Why not?

It’s my fault. It’s yours. We must
do good, then do better than to allow
it to become good news. Then (others,
us) we must report the good
that happens, too. As an alternative,
a celebration, and exemplar for all.

I visited my friend in the hospital
just in time to take him home. My
neighbors have launched a mission
website to help the children with
Down’s Syndrome and those who
want the children to have
a child’s life.

There’s some good, becomes good
news. It’s small. Good news is often

My small part as an example’s done.
So now,

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