I talk you talk we'll talk



Big Inning

Big Inning


I have another Sunday

So do you

Maybe it was yesterday

When I’ve worked the weekend,

It has been a Friday


A sabbath is a gift

After six days

Though a maker might forgive

A perspective that appreciates

A day before

The next six days


I guess this means

God invented the weekend

And the nineteenth century finally


Way to go, eighteen-hundreds

Catching up after

Forty billion years and change


A gift in receiving should be opened

How will we open this

Hold it to the light

Show it to our kith

And then our kin


Batteries not needed

Already given with a source of power

In the beginning


There are times when we force cessation

For a time

The seventh-inning stretch

Standing for “The Hallelujah Chorus”

Making Mondayholidays


Pausing must be good

We certainly need it

I hope your pause is good

Maybe sometime you will join me

And I you


C L Couch



Photo by PatrickHendry on Unsplash


And Does It Take a Sabbath Day

And Does It Take a Sabbath Day


And does it take a sabbath day

To have a larger thought

To encounter feeling that goes

‘Round the world


Maybe it does

Though the Lord knows

I can make my own

And, like entitlement, could call it

Anything I want

Though usually it’s Friday

Maybe Thursday


I used to retreat and rearranged the week

I’d go out on Thursday afternoon

Stay through the night

Often not sleeping, maybe by intent

My own dark night of the soul

Then I’d have Friday to go downstairs

To meet with the director

We’d talk of Francis and Gerald May

And would I train as he did

So far, I haven’t done so


All that has ended, as I guess it had to

Not because of miffed occasions

I’m not sure we ever had a one of those

But because mortality calls unevenly

And those of us are left

To fill in steps like pulling in

Loose lines on board we weren’t expecting

Never are


I must do now for me

Chaos, order

Void, abundance

I don’t arrange these very well

But they are big

Like large thoughts on a sabbath day

Friday or whenever


I must find my own way home

Find more company than this

Than these

Sensations, wishes, little more

Not to fill in emptiness

But something hale to

Place over the pain

Like a well-timed blanket

On a cold, cold winter day


When I couldn’t go out, anyway

To find the house above the creek

On made-up sabbath days


C L Couch




(note—yes, I saw the movie recently)


Nature and human come

Together for a sabbath day

A wilderness of possibilities set

Apart for eternity

The beauty in Amherst might



(she’d say it better)

Today I might be walking—

Will you walk with me, too?

Only if the crowd—will

Not be walking with you


A host of dashes hers to call

She commands them

Connections between words and a

Cosmos of actions

Options that will satisfy

Her divinities


We try to be friends—Emily,

The Lord, and I

But there is majesty in others and

Other entities to which

We must relent,

After the final time


C L Couch


beauty in Amherst

Terence Davies on the Hugeness of a Confined Life in His Emily Dickinson Biopic, ‘A Quiet Passion’



My Own Sabbath

My Own Sabbath


I want to capture something

Something of this padded moment

Sunlight is muffled, outside movements, too

Warm coffee in the cup, mottled by cream

I am tired, not having slept, yet have

Numbered hours without expectation

Except of myself

My own sabbath day

Tomorrow is the Lord’s

Don’t worry, I’m aware of presence


C L Couch


the day after


a poem that’s not an assignment
I can write anything I want
so can you

a kind of sabbath day, I guess
I do enjoy, regardless of formality, a day of
rest and easier reflection

I like this time when expectations are few
though that’s foolishness, because there’s always
much to do

but sabbath, personal or by tradition, gives us
a rest, a chance to think new things
to take life section by section

look at each, put it down after enjoying the texture
of each piece of living and the affects
of prior choice

and give new voice
to decide anew
after rest is due

our way

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