In between (Day 1136)

The waiting

& the slowing down

The sudden rush

of comings & goings

The bustle of planning

pushing darkness 

for a while   to the corner

The sound of doors 

opening & closing

& opening   just a little

& again   the waiting

perpetual

& the slowing down

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Covers ajar (Day 1135)

And those volumes  thousands 

of words  better left unsaid 

they burst open one night  

covers ajar  pages abandoned 

leaving a sea of clues 

and just the thought 

of missing you  showed 

the corner we had turned 

on that new street  life was odd

at first  wasn’t it  the soft ringing 

of trust being chipped and 

chipped away  the razing of walls 

that took no time at all to build 

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Nocturne (Day 1134)

Eleven p.m. Someone hammering on that saggy roof over there. Nocturnal urban woodpecker. Neighbors ignore the racket. What’re you gonna say?  See that 7-11 a few houses down? Guy robbed it last year. With a machete. I ask you, who the hell wakes up and thinks: I’m broke. Where’s my 30-inch, undergrowth-clearing curved blade? After, dumbass hid in a shed across the street. Even our crappy cops were able to find him. Now this man here — he should not be sitting on that porch every day when school lets out, if you know what I mean. Likes the girls. Lady up the street looked him up. Someone oughta call 9-1-1. But they never come. Look at that old lady over there with the bucket: 98 years old. Never eats anything but fruit and vegetables. Gives her cat cooking oil. The old guy’s her son, lives with her. Smokes five packs a day. Won’t buy them at the 7-11, though. Says “Whaddya think, I got a death wish?”

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Only because (Day 1133)

Light me a sunset

peaks aflame 

with coral & gold

only because I asked

bring me tomorrow

bright as childhood

& sweet   dressed up 

as someday soon

leave it at my door

& ring my bell

then run away & run 

away & run

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Early dusk (Day 1132)

A galaxy of raindrops 

each holding a tiny sun

sets black-limbed trees 

alight, blurs the edges

of an early dusk falling 

beyond the windows

heavy and blue as velvet

curtains and as quiet

© 2020, by Hannah Six

Some poems (Day 1131)

Jumbled words compete—

each more tempting than the last

—for space on the page.

Some poems arrive in full bloom.

Others, tight green buds, must be coaxed.

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Casual innocence (Day 1130)

Again green spears pierce 

a tangle of leaves in the corner

Been away   

birds sing in the dark 

just before sunrise & I count the days

Haven’t seen you in a while

there was a boy   years ago   

long dark ride   eyes like night

rain painting the fogged windows

There ain’t no good guys

but   of course   that 

went the way of all things fourteen

There ain’t no bad guys    

& now I wonder   

at our casual innocence   enthralled 

by warm hands   urgent whispers

There’s only you and me, and

at how easily   We 

just disagree

succumb to the anesthesia of ennui

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Italicized lines are from 

“We just disagree” (1977)

Recorded by Dave Mason

Songwriter Jim Krueger

Circling the sun (Day 1129)

morning air alive   and birds 

circling the sun   a delicous 

feeling of waiting 

I can hardly bear to look 

away   come out

we will meet—   follow

their trail to the end 

of the road and beyond

the way we did before 

our days grew so 

relentlessly pleasant that we 

simply drifted off to sleep

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

The three o’clock (Day 1128)

apple pie landscape   flat as a month 

of joy   greener than heaven   if less 

persuasive   from folding chairs

old men grunt   time the three o’clock 

crawling toward the junction   slack 

lines drift like poetry on the current

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Reflection (Day 1127)

Without speaking   she asks

     and the table   dark as black coffee  

so much   five lemons 

     in a blue and white bowl

imperfectly balanced on the edge 

     of their own patient reflection 

how can I say no 

(c) 2020, by Hannah Six

He’s a dream (Day 1126)

In that one the sun always shines, 

silver planes glinting like sequins 

in a sky blue as the Pacific.

In that one you and I are golden,

baby oil all the protection we need

in our endless poolside hours.

In that one you turn toward me, 

as that man saunters by. We hear 

he’s a dream, and laugh till we cry.

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Secrets (Day 1125)

opening   a shred 

of light drifts

stark   vulnerable

to the unswept floor   

briefly   soundlessly

and closing 

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

A million hearts (Day 1124)

fraught with innocence 

a stream sings to itself 

of its own perfection 

factions of trees lean

into one another  elegant

branches entwined 

below   a watery green 

gloaming as peaceful as 

it is still   broken  

by the wing-beat of leaves 

fluttering   a million hearts 

whispering this and that 

of spring   when life once 

steeped in sleep 

grows wakeful   breathes

mystery   transforming 

into something more

intimately recognizable

© 2020, by Hannah Six

At home (Day 1123)

I imagine your fan humming in a window, 

the air, humid and warm, moves just enough, 

lace curtains stirring in the day’s last breath.

I imagine your porch, as it was when you 

were young, pansies in pots along the ledge, 

how you’d sit and watch your world pass by.

I imagine your solitude, oppressive after all 

those years, ticking clock a comfort and a curse, 

and understand why you refused to leave.  

© 2020 by Hannah Six

The collaboration (Day 1122)

She cares for everyone and no one   and her hair smells of the sea   together they pass through an open door into a small hall   he thinks of her   eating buttered toast and jam   and the way she pronounces toast   always emphasizing that final t   makes him laugh   the air is scented with pine and apples   and no he isn’t in love with her   but with the way she catches his eye when she returns up the path from the beach silhouhetted against an evening tide the color of wood smoke   dropping his keys in a wooden bowl he climbs upstairs   certain he isn’t in too deep   but there has always been something about her after all

(c) 2020, by Hannah Six
Image: Public domain

Colors of lilies (Day 1121)

rippling black lace 

on pale blue silk

tall oaks sing amid 

rivers of winter

all the colors of lilies 

flow through my hands

knitting watery light 

in a rapture of warmth

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Image: Charles Courtney Curran, Lotus Lilies (1888),

oil on canvas, via Wikimedia Commons

Mended (Day 1120)

nothing can stand between 

our persistent past 

and our fading future

climbing above the clouds 

for the first time   we admire 

our own names   

the artifacts we reach for 

when we need to make sense

grabbing at low hanging fruit 

and holding on 

until our arms glisten with juice 

we find ourselves alone   tumbling 

like the sky   back to our beginning

flawed and unable    unwilling   

to repair the years of damage  

we want  we want  we want

what is essential   a map

an infallible compass   a wild vision

of our own magic   imperfect   

we are broken vessels

stronger for being shattered  and   

painstakingly mended   once more   

© 2020, by Hannah Six

Early spring (Day 1119)

The thing about spring is:

She’s fickle. 

Arriving late. Leaving early. 

Warming up, and suddenly 

cool. 

A blithe spirit, she is easy 

to love, hard to know, and

somehow, always in style.

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Image: Tom Thomson, Early Spring (1917),

oil on wood panel, via Wikimedia Commons

What hope (Day 1118)

don’t let them sell you 

on the end—precarious, 

this looming thing

every day, and always, 

beginnings bloom

and dreams take wing

no matter if you know 

it’s there, hope for what 

only hope can bring

(c) 2020, by Hannah Six

Image: Freedom II Andres (CC BY 2.0)

via Wikimedia Commons

Cento 41 (Day 1117)

Isn't this the best way

with gentle puffs of unshed 

rain   colored by dreams 

that kept you up all night

reclining alone in a land teeming 

with people   a rusty nail

whose metallic possibility

we choose to carry   anywhere

except the foam-rimmed strands

tattooed on your heart

© 2020 by Hannah Six

Image: public domain

Murder of crows (Day 1116)

The sun   a murder 

of crows   icebound   watching 

a play & truth 

fanned out   golden   along 

the garden path   watching

what they said   of course

across the table vast 

blue skies whispered    a murder 

of crows   astonished clouds 

of culpability & snow   where 

once relentless heat 

transformed   fanned out 

like cards   like wings   coal black 

against the sky   frozen branches

snap & they wonder how

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Image: Qian Xuan, Early Autumn (13th Century),

Ink and colors on paper scroll, via Wikimedia

So familiar (Day 1115)

So familiar the falling 

into Saturday feeling 

the end of another 

perilous journey from 

phase to phase precise 

as the rhythmic plink plink 

of a stringed instrument 

close as Sunday morning 

in that precious between 

songs flow like streams 

one by one a comforting 

fire melts the hours 

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Some pale version (Day 1114)

When you come   desperate

for answers   for comfort

is it gold you want   or tea

or beautiful words

artfully arranged 

in columns    against 

a backdrop of new-fallen snow   

is it a performance   lavishly 

staged   tragic and wise

when you come   do you mean

to go   sheltering in the nighttime

scents of a moss-hung forest or 

diving below foam-crested waves

far beyond the point   desperate 

for answers   do you seek 

truth   or some pale version

masquerading as the morning mist

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Image: Brocken Inaglory (CC BY-SA 3.0)

via Wikimedia Commons

Lighthouse (Day 1113)

in the curving distance   she seemed to rise from the sea

while they   damp at the cuffs   laughed & skipped away

from gentle waves   the ocean breathed placidly after 

a night spent hurling itself against those crumbling walls

hungry for ship & shore   a living thing this lighthouse

sliding further out with their every step   blue jellyfish

abandoned by the storm.  dotted the beach   reflecting 

the sky   & the day warmed as they turned inland & 

struggled over the dunes   peering inside   they pressed 

sweaty faces against night-dark windows   a living thing

her purpose to prevent disaster   yet helpless this day

craning their necks to see into the spiraling darkness

they almost heard voices echoing  help us   after a while

defeated by the quiet   they wandered off   hands clutching 

small smooth stones & empty shells

© 2020 by Hannah Six

Image: Pixabay

Colder than you think (Day 1112)

How impatiently you now attend  

where your name used to open doors 

can you bear life without 

your diamond necklaces and rings  

fingers drooping with their weight   

those were brilliant days  it’s true

precious   and unremarkable 

you see  the razor’s edge is colder 

than you think   but step outside

where white winds slice

your barren trees   and you  a blossom

struggling to bloom   might find 

strength tracing the fine silk strands 

in newly mended webs   may even 

dance to some faint music filtering 

through your fractured window panes

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Image: PxHere

Browsing (Day 1111)

The sun is shining on our table 

outside, in the corner of the patio. 

Are you there, looking for me? 

Shade slides across pavement 

as afternoon fades into evening, 

heat melting into a softness 

that quiets the city’s heartbeat.

Are you still waiting for me? 

Nearby, in a brick-walled shop, 

shelves lean under the weight 

of aging books, tended by an old 

gray cat and a cantankerous man.

Maybe I will find you here?

Perhaps you page through a slim 

volume of poetry, or admire faded

watercolors of the California coast. 

Have you found what you sought? 

As I approach, your eyes focus more 

slowly than they used to, then 

sparkle in sudden recognition. 

How will we find each other now?

You browse slowly, so I wander 

with you, companionably, until 

we succumb to the cafe’s siren call. 

Could we visit it, just once more? 

Someday, for you, for me, there 

will be no more waiting. We will

take, forever, our own sweet time.

© 2020, by Hannah Six

Slowly, spring (Day 1110)

Slowly  spring seeps 

out of the day

already turning silver 

around its edges 

fading to rain and mist 

after one brief taste 

of warmth—a promise 

of blooming flowers

gentle evenings 

hovering briefly on 

the cooling air

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Image: Suzuki Harunobu, Snow (1769), 

woodblock print, via Wikimedia Commons

Even when (Day 1109)

you will never be alone 

in this world    

even when lost   dwelling alone 

in the work

drafting the facts of a life 

even when   once again

inhabiting the vivid dream 

of childhood   or listening 

to leaves of poetry whispering 

among the knotted roots 

of prose    and never 

when you sense approaching 

mystery   the beloved

who finds you in a sheltered 

corner of the palest cove

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Public domain image

Out from under (Day 1108)

She went anyway

that’s not the point 

sighing   she folded 

an unmentionable letter 

having swum up 

and out from under 

all those lilies   roses

—nothing personal 

never regretting 

the promises 

or the friends 

who confused her

with a proper lady

taking measured steps 

ever imprisoned 

by massive dreams

no offers of help

no hope of renewal

resting on deep 

green currents

trusting they would 

take her   wherever 

she needed to be

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

(Public domain image)