I talk you talk we'll talk



Send Something

(x = space)



Send Something


A little love

A few notes in a song

Words on paper

(that’s a note)

Or however


A bit of chocolate

Or another treat

Would not go wrong

And may simply


Render aid

Toward something right


C L Couch



Photo by Tamas Pap on Unsplash


Death of a Coffeemaker

(x = space)



Death of a Coffeemaker


The world gets so small sometimes,

Doesn’t it?

I mean, there are real problems,

Real horrors,

Real fears


And yet this small machine

Has had enough:

For all the pressing,

The red light will not come on


And now the water in the reservoir

Has run all over the counter


Sigh, it had been in decline—and

Now I think it’s done


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


But I’m stuck with old-fashioned

And will have to visit all the stores

At hand


This could be an opportunity

To stop drinking coffee—



C L Couch



Photo by Goh Rhy Yan on Unsplash

Flying a drone at dusk in the city.


By the Light of a Gray Day

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, Faroe Islands

Saksun Church, Nordic Church





I want to feel like

Something small

Not shriveled

Rather folded up

Like some leaves while resting


I’m hoping for a second skin


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

West Coast DC, South Africa

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!






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

Lent 26


Sometimes, when I’m afraid

I write

Or when I’m sad


Or frustrated

But if I looked back through my journal

(I haven’t done that often)

I’d find, I believe, expressions of


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



Something small can move along the tale

If only silent thanks


C L Couch



Mateusz Tokarski, ca. 1795 (National Museum in Warsaw)

Mateusz Tokarski –, Public Domain,

(still life with peas)


Lent 21

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,


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

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


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,


The Cypress Trees out Back

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,

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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