(x = space)
x
x
Death of a Coffeemaker
x
The world gets so small sometimes,
Doesn’t it?
I mean, there are real problems,
Real horrors,
Real fears
x
And yet this small machine
Has had enough:
For all the pressing,
The red light will not come on
x
And now the water in the reservoir
Has run all over the counter
x
Sigh, it had been in decline—and
Now I think it’s done
x
If I had all the memberships,
I could order something, and then
It would appear
Having been dropped gently
By a drone
Or through the door
Of a pilotless car
x
But I’m stuck with old-fashioned
And will have to visit all the stores
At hand
x
This could be an opportunity
To stop drinking coffee—
What?
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Goh Rhy Yan on Unsplash
Flying a drone at dusk in the city.
x
By the Light of a Gray Day
Comfort in small things
A blanket folded, ready
Lamplight showing golden through
A translucent black shade
Old copper cooking instruments
Set on the wall
Stacks of books here and there,
Which should be smaller
Burnished parts of furniture,
Others left alone
Muted colors and some bold
Rounded shapes and just a few
Right angles
Yes, it’s in the room
Everything that gladdens without telling
A hymn that plays beneath
Unruly thoughts and actions
All above
Small art here and there
A hope for more
C L Couch
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash
Saksun Church, Nordic Church
Penitent
I want to feel like
Something small
Not shriveled
Rather folded up
Like some leaves while resting
I’m hoping for a second skin
(protection,
only natural)
Of noises in a sun-washing field
That kind of peace, no other
Just now and for a while
Brief or long
(but it could be long)
May I have this, please
C L Couch
Photo by Gaston Roulstone on Unsplash
A low-angle photo to give an unusual perspective of the wild daisies which appear every spring along the West Coast in South Africa. Nature at its most colorful time!
Earth-Talk
The sun is knocking,
Asking to come in
Can you imagine?
The sun, huge and glorious
And powerful, asking
To come in?
But on this pale-gray day, the Earth
Seems to be withholding
Tiny planet, fending off
The sun
What is just but to give
The smaller thing its due?
It’s here, too, after all
And what is mercy
But to wait upon
Its waiting?
C L Couch
Photo by Fabian Struwe on Unsplash
Lent 26
Sometimes, when I’m afraid
I write
Or when I’m sad
Indecisive
Or frustrated
But if I looked back through my journal
(I haven’t done that often)
I’d find, I believe, expressions of
Thanksgiving
Sometimes for sleep that didn’t go so badly
Sometimes for coffee in the morning
Sometimes for cold water, when
I’ve arranged it
I don’t know how much happiness I can have
But it seems I can have gratitude
Which has pieces, if only whittlings,
Of the larger parts
Of joy and peace
I think somewhere in there
Might be an invitation, which is
Why I write about this now
Because maybe
You’ll find something in the formula
I didn’t plan, and
I didn’t plan
Simply saying thank you
To the universe, to God
To a spirit, to an angel
For some measure of something
That will, if only as a single pea
(sorry if you don’t like peas, for
I know those who hate them),
Yet add nourishment to the day
A pea can accomplish something
It makes a whistle work
And disturbs the sleep of the
Princess
Something small can move along the tale
If only silent thanks
C L Couch
Mateusz Tokarski, ca. 1795 (National Museum in Warsaw)
Mateusz Tokarski – cyfrowe.mnw.art.pl, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=26953289
(still life with peas)
Lent 21
Have you ever run the sponge
Along the bottom of the sink
And felt the satisfaction?
Knowing that the dishes cleaned
Are in the rack
And the quiet from the running water
Now turned off
Is a pleasure of pressure
On the ears
I’ve done that today
You have your own form of this, I’m sure
A small act always needing doing
And for a moment, when it’s done,
A small, small part of the world
Feels right
Feels righter
For being cleaner, a little more at peace
For a time
I don’t know if it’s a model for anything
That’s larger
It is its own peace
But access to hot water isn’t everywhere
Even soap can be hard to come by
Against a savage promise of starvation
Looming like an open maw, nearing
The family
The one
And so might there be peace in this:
That we must invite assurance
Of all things lent us,
Partnering
So the jaw of need is shut
For this time and in our keeping
Our maintaining
And our growing
Enough for God’s pleasure in our own
Because we’ve done it right
C L Couch
Photo by Jim DiGritz on Unsplash
Lent 13
We kill them
in New Zealand.
We kill them
in Pittsburgh.
We kill them when we leave
disasters go unplanned.
What is wrong with us
that we must in living
(dying)
ways deny the worth
of each of us
in every moment?
There is an answer:
maybe it starts small
within a verdant nucleus
and then another.
And then we make something like
synapse so that
the network of humanity
cannot function in any other way
but connected.
C L Couch
New Zealand Mosque Massacre Live-Streamed
“Let’s get this party started.” Those were the chilling opening lines of a now-viral Facebook live video streamed by the gunman who casually and methodically killed at least 41 people at a mosque in Christchurch, New Zealand Friday. Eight more people died in an attack at another mosque, but it’s unclear if the same gunman was responsible.
Split Apple Rock in Abel Tasman National Park, New Zealand
Split_Apple_Rock_Abel_Tasman_National_Park_New_Zealand.jpg: Alexander Klinkderivative work: —kallerna™ – Split_Apple_Rock_Abel_Tasman_National_Park_New_Zealand.jpg, CC BY 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=6428938
The Cypress Trees out Back
They stand tall and spare
Branches at the top all by themselves
Like leafy crowns
Bearing the responsibility without
The retinue,
Royal reinforcements
The tree that was squat and enormous
Is gone
Blown apart by wind and rain
And all weather-fury
Tell me how the slender cypress
Still rise from the earth
When the broader, low-to-ground
Was taken
I don’t know, but I think
Maybe the taller trees were
Much, much better at bending
Without breaking
C L Couch
Kevmin – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=7571467
A branch of fossilized Glyptostrobus species needles. Eocene, 49.5 myo; Klondike Mountain Formation, Republic, Washington, USA. Stonerose Interpretive Center specimen # [sic]
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