I talk you talk we'll talk



An Angel Visits Francis

(x = space)



An Angel Visits Francis


I speak to God today

God is quiet

Not uninvolved

With nothing noisy

To contribute

Beyond the rain outside

The singing tires

The occasional movement


From a neighbor

Or from me


I wonder when an angel

Visits Francis

How it goes

No, don’t get up

Relax the hand with the ring

No doubt you lift the office

With an instinct


I’m here to rest with you

For a moment

To be still

You know the issues

And the crises in the world

One of us will tell you

When there are

Awful surprises

You are doing well

We are

I am

Sorry when you’re sick

The age and job

Do take it out of you

You could retire

Like your peer

Sometimes I think

He has the better part

But I don’t think you’ll give up

‘Til you have the sense

You’re done

Remember I am here

We are here

We fly around you

Dance with happiness

Or grief

You know we are not

The round things of the Renaissance

But are might beings

Wide in span

And awful

As in full of awe

To know us

And carry power

You know whose

And are ready

Should you wish us to defend

Evil forefend

Should you wish to rest with us around

And when you’re ready

To be escorted

Even carried



We are will

And we love you


Back to me

And God is ready for your voice

When you wish to speak

Or keep it in your mind

The better things

Are in your heart

We’re told,

Which means your spirit

The spirit of the Lord

Is with you, too,

Waking or sleeping

Like the song

Agents of God

Angels and nature

Sing around you

Sometimes difficult

Impossible, it seems,

To hear

But singing nonetheless

The music of the spheres

The song that’s in your sphere

Of hope

And love

To resonate with good things

To navigate the bad

There is help

In that

In both


C L Couch



Photo by gil on Unsplash


To the Cat Who Called at 3 a.m.

(x = space)



To the Cat Who Called at 3 a.m.



(must be how we got the word)

I open the door, look down

Into round eyes,

Fuzzy-looking face, striped fur

You come in

Walk around, inspecting

You like to have me pet your face

And around your ears

I try to pick you up

That does not go well


So I leave you to explore

Find all the levels

Try them out

You knock some things over

I sit until you jump on me

Time for more petting

Then we’re tired

‘Cause it was already late

I leave the door ajar

Lie down

I wake up, there you are

Close by

Looking sleepy, too


After a while, you leave

You meow some more

But now it’s daytime

Better for meows’ acceptance


Later on, it’s quiet

You had made another visit


Then gone out


I trust you are back in your place

I hope it’s a good one

Feel free to drop by



C L Couch



Photo by Bogdan Farca on Unsplash

not the cat (but looks like)




I’ll keep these for a time
Since they mark and note
The trip I took not so far
Away or so long ago

Pay slips from the turnpike
To represent my drives
Out and back, a map of
A town back home I found
At a station kiosk—sometimes
These are surprise-filled
Documents, even for a
Place I know

Coffee receipts out, those
For sandwiches on the
Way back in

Business card for a city
Place, the kind of which
We do not have in my
Small town, but at which
I had lunch with my family

Saint Vincent de Paul, whose
Thrift store I visited with my
Sister, where I bought a small
Piece of clear-black glass

An olive oil store—a
Festive, promising
New niche place—I
Got a narrow bottle of
Honey-serrano vinegar
For my brother-in-law
Who cooks a lot

Purchase record for a
Calendar I bought
On sale and then the

Best—a paper testimony
From a local bookstore

How I wish there were
More like this! I had gift
Card, it had the books

There are other neighbor
Places to support—those
Selling food and clothing and
Art-expression pieces from
Those makers starting out
Close by

But these books will do
They were my part in
My going, my time away, and
My returning afterward

My small trip—for
Now, a small-documented

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