Only Geese (Day 1197)

And now, only geese, 

harbingers of prayers fulfilled, 

meander among 

these silent headstones,

waddling stoutly along sidewalks 

where sodden grass runs to weeds, 

scrabbling and nesting, 

keen on nothing but their own 

soothing mutterings 

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Haiku for Day 1196

Amid whorls of pollen, 

dreaming of sunwarmed windfall pears,

wasps dance, and bide their time

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Carved of bone (Day 1195)

tomorrow   we found   high on a totem

a fearless heart

carved of bone   someone will leave it  

on a mountain   on the moon

full and ripe as a plum   a distant refrain

we will wind it in silk   this gift   we bore 

into a tangled mass of yesterdays 

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Colored lights (Day 1194)

A constant rain dampened 

everything that first year.

Only the glow of colored 

lights warmed the room.

So, jazz station on the radio, 

I danced alone in the dark, 

While ice gathered at the base 

of warped aluminum windows.

Since then, I learned to leave 

the lights up, the radio on. 

© 2020 by Hannah Six

Poised for flight (Day 1193)

Gilded years 

   of fellowship and obligations

      unyielding   uncommonly cold

their ancient half-truths 

   cracked   sculpted 

      into uninvited answers

elaborate  wilted-flower words

whispering fog feathers 

   poised for flight

      betraying more admiration 

than wanted 

      or offered   indulging 

         in orgies of wanton opposition   

all the while   objecting to revision

always and ever  to no avail 

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Concealed (Day 1192)

generously concealed

bowers of sheltered kindnesses 

vernal benefactors

galaxies of pale blue flowers

seeking only the sun’s regard

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Mirrored (Day 1191)

in the darkening beyond 

a well-lit window   paradise beneath

frost-rimmed glass    radiant 

as snowflakes or billowing waves

twilight   again   veils 

reflection so   desire 

mirrored in gentle dips and swells

adrift   resting in wonder

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Smiles (Day 1190; Pandemic series #4)

Eventually, they told us 

to wear face masks, 

and suddenly, every smile we saw 

was genuine. 

You can always — we could only 

— tell by the eyes

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

And sleep (Day 1189)

Then give away this moon  and sleep

time-twisted  creaking floors 

and fear  inside this desperate storm

tomorrow  a quiet place  a plum  

a cat’s soft ears  sweet magic in your 

hands  and hours  safe and warm 

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Unattended (Day 1188; Pandemic series #3)

We’re all in this together 

they said   some reached out 

to help neighbors   older folks 

and those with quiet illnesses

who had lived   unattended  

for years   exactly  like  this 

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

In blue (Day 1187)

We drifted in blue

Turquoise above and below

Slow lazy circles

Overhead an eagle 

Measured the infinite sky

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Unsettled (Day 1186)

The sun is climbing, birds sing

alone, unsettled

Despite the frost, rich clusters 

   of cherry blossoms droop 

      on slim brown branches

skirting the woods

In their glade, purple and white 

   violets still bloom. An owl calls, 

      voice muffled and velvety, from 

         deep in the trees

bittersweet spring

Leaves unfurl on a towering ash, 

   downed during a winter storm, 

      reclining now, a fallen monarch,

         deep in a bed of uncut grass 

breaking like waves  

And a cardinal swoops so near 

   to me that I can hear her wings 

      beating against the unmoving air 

against my heart

© 2020 by Hannah Six

What we did then (Day 1185)

Didn’t we once find our way

to the bottom of the falls, through 

acres of smooth gray stones 

and silent banks of ferns?

Didn’t we stand laughing, at the edge 

of a green pool, needles of snowmelt 

spray piercing our armour of salt? 

And what did we do then? 

Perhaps, we walked headlong into 

a wilderness, returning hungry 

and wild, none the wiser for our trial. 

Perhaps, we stripped and bathed 

in water pure as fire, judged only 

by tiny lizards clinging to a fence. 

Perhaps, we closed our eyes against 

the sun, finding our way home 

by touch alone. Maybe we simply left 

ourselves behind, shadows wandering 

among the pine-decked lakes?

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

& 39 (Day 1184)

like ancient stories

it no longer matters

odd  aimless friends 

the feeling of your hands 

this is not a rehearsal

for those old days

their odd way of standing 

apart   slanting 

toward an illumination

of rusting iron  

you’d linger   a stalactite 

& you’d have been crazy 

to ever come down

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Apricots (Day 1183)

eyebrows twitching   he squints 

into the sundrunk world beyond 

his table   where a woman walks

poised   as if she could resist 

the pressure of his eyes

would she succumb easily   

carelessly divulging the plump 

ripe fruit of her secrets

he weighs his options 

in the palm of his hand   unaware 

he is sound asleep

silver hair unruly as the midday

glare   dreaming of apricots 

warmed by a summer sun

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Escarpment (Day 1182)

Memories around her shoulders   warm as the night 

they said goodbye   ocean a distant silver glimmer 

in the rear view mirror   future an impassable 

escarpment   stretching as far as the eye could see

she trembled at its base   unable to move forward 

or around   unwilling to go back   huddled in moments

warm and soft as the night they met   moonlit ocean 

a silver expanse at their feet   future a rolling landscape

lush and green   holding all promises   she trembled 

in his arms   unable to move forward or around   unwilling 

to go back   huddled in flickering blue moments   hard 

and cold as the escarpment devouring a sinking sun

© 2020 by Hannah Six

Time was like this (Day 1181)

Time was like this 

once   coarse enough

to choke an hourglass

when trees fell 

soundlessly   & still

they bloomed

& still   every horizon 

thin as silver bells

solid as a blanket of glass   

sleek with silence 

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Dog & man (Day 1180)

& so they maunder   

the dog & the congenial old man

alone   but for each other

while they can   the outline 

of the woods   where 

a span of violets   like butterflies   

entices them to linger   to savor 

that elusive scent

& along a crumbling road   much used 

but quiet now   they walk

until a pleasant lassitude descends

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Weeks Later (Day 1179; Pandemic series #2)

For those of us who stayed 

home   a trip to Safeway

was a glass of champagne

and we found our thoughtful 

neighbors had helped 

relieve us of decision fatigue 

by clearing the shelves of 

extraneous options like bread

Tylenol  and toilet paper

still   that cavernous space 

haunted by the swift and silent

masked   felt like a revelation

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Early on (Day 1178; Pandemic series #1)

We still traveled  though

nervously   

and when three 

passengers around us 

coughed 

violently and at length

a surgeon in 

the window seat smiled

ruefully   and held up 

two fingers

crossed   for luck

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Arranged (Day 1177)

blue wishes   

threaded by hand

one & then another

& the next   memories

cares   hopes arranged

on the taut edges 

of solitude 

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

The Crest (Day 1176)

Up and up we climbed   scorched 

by the white sun scorching the dust 

beneath our feet   losing ground 

where the trail grew steep

and cursing our lack of progress 

when it leveled out into 

a series of pine-darkened switchbacks 

climbing up and up   the ridge

losing all the sharp edges

in air so thin we forgot ourselves 

or almost   our water grew warm 

and soon ran out   but we continued

toward a bank of clouds 

just out of reach   and once 

we fell   exhausted  splayed 

across the trail   so narrow at times

two people could not pass  

then growing so wide we laughed 

in relief   sweat rivulets tattooed 

our grimy faces  and the lake expanded

a mirage  luring us backwards   

silent but for breath  ragged  burning

and then a bend   and suddenly

  

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Silly bee (Day 1175)

Warm as summer, 

blossoms giving way 

to leaves, my house 

wide open, welcoming 

a spring-sweet breeze—

I notice, coming from 

another room, an angry 

buzzing sound my foolish

cat’s unlikely to ignore. 

With a sigh, once more 

diverted from my work, 

I seek the source 

and find, trapped between 

two window panes, 

one agitated honeybee.

He must have dropped in

hours ago, to see what he 

could see, and lost his way, 

and I...well, I’m unable 

as my cat to abondon him  

to fate.

Soon, bee in glass and glass 

in hand, we step outside 

to let him fly. “Silly bee,” 

I say, “we may be trapped 

inside for now, but you, 

at least, are free.”

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Company (Day 1174)

Past midnight  moonless

darkness pressed up against glass

incapable of understanding

next door a clock ticks 

from dim corners

imperceptible voices ebb and flow 

shadows  unknown friends 

and distant companions  welcome

company  considering the hours

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Without smoke (Day 1173)

It’s the fire                     in the heart

without smoke              burning still

and the question   is it or isn’t it

could be worse than the answer

the problem                 unsolvable

© 2020 by Hannah Six

Tuning in (Day 1172)

Alone, he watched flickering blue lights,

listened to voices raving and cajoling,

urging him to believe Them, and not 

The Others, raving and cajoling 

on a different channel, and he shuddered

at the horrors the voices invoked, choking 

down his fear, pouring another one to dull 

the incessant ache, never considering 

the voices raving and cajoling inside

his own mind, urging him not to believe 

for the sake of believing, but to tune in, 

instead, to the quietest voice of all.

(c) 2020, by Hannah Six

4 a.m. song (Day 1171)

Serious robin—

sending such sublime music

into the predawn darkness.

Is that not the way

of an artist’s heart? 

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Tanka for Day 1170

Minute field of stars

In a sky of Irish Moss—

Intrepid flowers,

So vulnerable underfoot.

Do they know how small they are?

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

In times like these (Day 1169)

Alone, with silence as your friend,

you watch the sun crossing the sky,

until the day comes to an end

—14 more hours have gone by.

Ahead long weeks and months unwind,

and time’s slow motion waltz spins on,

but in these moments you may find,

solace when solitude is gone. 

When all is well, and all is well,

when planes are caught and meetings met,

our busyness will break the spell

we’re under now, and we’ll forget:

There’s purpose in the simplest task,

there’s freedom in the April breeze,

and love in giving without being asked,

and beauty, even in times like these.

© 2020 by Hannah Six

Distracted (Day 1168)

gray day   graced with yellow and green 

rewarding the few who drove distractedly 

to where they did or did not need

to be   in the trees   morning gathers

weeks will pass before fresh  glossy 

leaves obscure the bare branches 

and they sat   eyes fixed on traffic lights 

sat on porches with their children 

lured by a few tiny white blossoms

the grass is growing lush   evening long 

and no one noticed how

a thousand pink petals chased each other 

around and across the intersection 

warmed by a fitful sun  and

the clouds moved  slowly  overhead

© 2020 by Hannah Six