Rainy-Brained
I don’t know what to say today
As our flood waters rise
The water’s in the wall so tall
I see the damage with my eyes
But I unlike the waif am safe
Though here or there’s a crack
I will not risk my life (a knife)
Here I’ll be should you come back
C L Couch
Photo by Herrmann Stamm on Unsplash
Man Bites Dog
(that’s news)
Somewhere it’s been said
That news isn’t dog-bites-man but
When it’s
Man bites dog
This morning police came
With a heavy knock on my door
It was loud, I was asleep
So everything happened fast and fuzzy
A muscled officer, the kind
I want when on my side,
Told me urgently and kindly
That a tree was about to fall on my car
I guess we had a storm last night,
Which I did not hear
(sometimes I take a pill)
I pulled on jeans and left
Pausing I guess because we had to
For some official information
To pass from me to him
Outside it’s mid-morning, gray and
Dim with rainfall, lights off of
Firefighting vehicles not really changing things
So much
There was my car
My hobbit car
Tall but narrow, close to the ground
I had taken my keys (where
was my license?) and knew enough
To start the car and move it forward
Now there’s buzz-sawing for the tree
Though I hear nothing for the moment
(I’m nothing like a gawker and have been
inside), so maybe
It’s done
And with the tree
Our being in the local news for Sunday morning
C L Couch
Image by PublicDomainPictures from Pixabay
Wrought
A new way of thinking
That’s what we make
Well, we make the frame
The content of new thinking
Is up to you
Which I mean in the best way possible
Fantastic responsibility
To move yourself
And your people
Forward
Maybe help with the first of these
So many layers added al the time
There was gray light
And I turned it on, and the lamp
The bulb
Changed light to gold
Like Rumpelstiltskin’s straw
It might rain
It might be on the way
We’ve had some downpours recently
But the forecaster says that
Our water table’s low
Good time for participation
For new things to fall
To wash the world some
Offering nourishment to the ground
And those who live upon it
It means grayness continues
Though we can have better light against
The darkness
Through craft
And letting go the work
C L Couch
Image by Raheel Shakeel from Pixabay
Inking
(Advent, anytime)
I’m tired, and it’s raining
Rainy days are interesting
I like them
As long as they don’t go too far
The sun holds back, because
The clouds have asked them to
And far below, we dodge
The drops or surrender
To umbrella lids, rubber shoulders,
Or wet heads
It drops like verse upon the page
And we are drenched, then, in another way
Which is all right, I hope
One can’t catch cold from rained upon with words
I’m trusting
Virus has become interchangeable
Maybe colds can jump forms, too,
And meanings
There was a word made flesh
We killed that flesh, but
It walked among us whole (wholer),
At last
Then went away
To return another time
We fear that time and market it
It will come, anyway
And is said to be a glory
Let’s not fear our words so much, then
For like the word that died and
Will return
That is with us now
There is inherent resurrection quality
(aspect and excellence)
In what we can say,
In what we like to think
Especially in a season of hope
What might be heard
Might change us
In needful and saving ways
On rainy days
Forever
C L Couch
Photo by Caroline Grondin on Unsplash
Autumning
On a Sunday night,
we walked some streets in Cambridge.
It was fall. The streets were wet; the
air was chilled.
We actually found a small place
that served chowder. It was cheap,
and it was good. And I
imagined a hundred places like it in
the town. I think I
was right.
That was my first and so far last trip there,
though she came once to me. But
at the time, we were set at odds against
each other; there was no way
we could get it right.
C L Couch
Bicycles in the Rain
Mark Hornbuckle
clcouch123 
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