Lullaby (Day 1258)

night-cooled strands 

    of shadows 

reflections in rustling 

    river-rock branches   

yesterday’s forgotten 

    needs whisper 

from the edge of edges

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

The empty Centre (Day 1257)

This one is bleak and unprivate

bound by vacant big-box stores

and fast food chains

long past their prime   lacking 

shade   it offers little more 

than too much room 

to think the same few thoughts

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six   

 

Haiku for Day 1256

sheer-curtained June night 

fireflies arc through swaying oaks

open eyed, waiting

© 2020 by Hannah Six

Weis Markets #167 (Day 1255)

This one is windblown 

trees    thunderous 

heat   dust spattering 

the side panel

coating the dash through 

open windows

but time is mine here   

and room to imagine 

being 

in a hurry 

to go home

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Markings (Day 1254)

through an open door   

a butterfly wandered

markings like eyes   

fixed on your heart 

and stayed for hours 

gazing at you

white-spotted wings 

fluttering 

like desire   

the taste of it  red dust

the feeling   sunshine   

like trying 

to capture a droplet 

of imagination 

falling   pen in hand 

you sip words 

like a flower   each slowly 

melting on your tongue

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

How will we compare (Day 1253)

when the ice is gone

& we have only fire

how will we compare

when the sky opens

& the blue trails away

into

the constellations 

dispassionate

(a map of your heart)

 

when we are left with 

only cloud-consuming fire 

how will we celebrate 

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Extinct (Day 1252)

Behold   the abhorred vaccuum

A common truth   now extinct

Maybe another time   you say

Every day   it is not yesterday

Nothing stays the same   except this

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Midair (Day 1251)

The shell of daylight

cracked 

our hearts   bursting 

with barely a pop 

we break   

apart   fingertips swirling 

over fragile   and  

we break 

the horizon   awash

with blue-green lightning 

and   every time   

heart somersaulting 

in midair   I come to know

again   you   see?

through these curtains  

you never say

but I have come to be 

parted 

by evening’s cooling rush 

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Shelter (Day 1250)

just as the sun became

an inverted fountain of heat 

& light   we sat outside   listening 

intently as old photographs   

fraught with the expectations 

of ten thousand memories   

frayed minds sailing effortlessly

skimming the glinting edges 

of the promises we offered to shelter 

one another from fire & flood

© 2020 by Hannah Six

Quieter than cold (Day 1249)

Truth dawns 

quieter than cold

betrayed 

by a circling hawk 

persuaded 

by a field of asters 

cast aside 

on an autumn-bare 

hillside   selfish 

and bitter as a door 

abruptly closed

© 2020 by Hannah Six

In progress (Day 1248)

The world was larger then.

The vastness of California still a mystery

(Still. A mystery.)

to easterners

who seemed to believe San Franciscans 

could just pop down to L.A. for an afternoon

(Or would.)

who thought we all talked, like, ohmygawd! 

And if you know what I mean, 

you understand.

The vastness of California, of Nebraska,

or, from a different point of view, Pennsylvania.

A question that, now, can only be resolved

with a map you cannot fold. 

But we know, you and I — those folds 

themselves were essential to the mystery, 

an unending source of wonder to anyone 

who opened a map, then tried to fold it up again. 

© 2020 by Hannah Six

Languid (Day 1247)

Thunderstorms approach

the air close and warm as laundry 

fresh from the dryer

In a languid gray distance 

the sky purrs    almost satisfied

and curls into itself   

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

& a promise (Day 1246)

morning rushes in   pale turquoise 

wave bubbling with song 

& a promise   tendrils of night 

cling to my shoulders   

tangle my hair   but I must count 

these unrelenting hours 

until the fireflies rise & fall

cascading like stars 

in a honeysuckle-infused sky 

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

As salt (Day 1245)

Cat stretched out 

long as July 

afternoons

like distant music

heat melts 

into your veins

and tomorrow

reliable as salt

will unfold like today

in that   

we may find solace

or disquiet

which is preferable

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

What woke him (Day 1244)

He jolted awake, half-risen 

from his pillow 

before his eyes opened,

leaning on an elbow, 

head cocked to better hear 

what had startled him.

And over the thrumming 

of his heart,

and over the rushing 

of his blood:

Silence.

Where there should 

have been crickets: 

Silence.

When cicadas and katydids 

should have filled the night 

with their baroque cacophony:

Silence.

Silence, and the trees.

Silence, under a wide, 

tar-black sky glistening, 

as if wet with dew.

© 2020 by Hannah Six

Whistle (Day 1243)

Where do you travel

when you have to

walk alone?

Is your path

narrow

or broad?

Are the trees 

overhead alive 

with yellow birds?

What tunes

do you whistle

as you go?

© 2020 by Hannah Six

Drained (Day 1242)

How many years 

have passed since the sun 

truly shone   flickering 

like it once did 

on a gregarious sea

what is left for us

to say   as tiny flecks 

of blue & gray dissolve 

our soluble world 

& empty hallways fill 

with the forgotten & the old

following our progress 

with eyes like fountains   

drained & cordoned off 

for cleaning & repair 

© 2020 by Hannah Six

Slightly crushed (Day 1241)

I remember being underwater

and how your face wavered 

beyond the surface

you were laughing   lifting me out

my hair streaming   

and I shivered in my T-shirt

looking away (few knew you 

were so gallant)  you enveloped me 

in your denim jacket  

I remember how warmth lingered 

in that shearling collar   

your scent   dusky as pine trees 

baking in the summer sun   

smoky as the Marlboros   always 

stuffed in your chest pocket   

when you disappeared 

they were all you left behind

and   half ashamed   I hid them

and when the missing threatened 

to sweep me out to sea  

I opened the box    slightly crushed

and smoked them   one by one   

breathing you in   wondering 

if   at that moment   

you were doing the same while

perhaps   remembering how

my face wavered below the surface

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Lights (Day 1240)

curtain falls

lights rise

imagined gives way 

to real   which is 

sometimes 

better

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Incised (Day 1239)

variable line

imprecisely elegant

incised on absence

wavering toward its destination

papers edge a borderless horizon

© 2020 by Hannah Six

Poison (Day 1238)

apathy resolves 

into waste 

rotting like dreams

in the midday sun 

why should it 

take violent storms 

or the deviant 

appetites of pale men 

when he 

who shall not be obeyed 

clearly longs 

to remand us into custody 

of perpetual winter 

locked in forgotten cages

to atone 

for our sins   perhaps a death 

or two 

perhaps thousands 

 

beginning at the end  

blind 

to the gold 

they hide behind 

we choose each other

hearts ocean wide

because even a sip

of despair 

is bitter poison   and we

have drained the bottle

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Not yourself (Day 1237)

Why are you not yourself?

The dark mirror of your eyes 

reflects half-forgotten dreams 

and melted snow.

I have no words to ask,

you have no words to answer.

So, we wait, 

and, together, search

our precarious ground 

for a thousand missing pieces.

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Goodnight, woods (Day 1236)

bowing and nodding

murmuring to each other

in creaking voices

evening climbs the tallest 

trees — dark tapers set aflame 

by the sun’s goodnight kiss

    

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Scene set (Day 1235; pandemic series #10)

Day: Sizzling

Tea: Chilled

Shade: Almost cool

Tables: Sidewalk

Limit: Six per

Required distance: Six feet

Diners: The Regulars

Number: Twelve per table

Distance: Shoulder to shoulder

Protection: Opinions, loudly voiced

Motivation: Fear

Consideration: Scarce

Those who want: Many

Those who need: Invisible

Those who care: ______

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Moonless (Day 1234)

Fleeing our thunderous silence

we stray outside

tumbling into the bottomless 

fog-drawn night 

our footfalls ceaseless 

as distant cliff-bound surf 

the echoes   recalled   

less rhythm than lament

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

What thoughts (Day 1233)

What thoughts are hers, transfixed by the unseen,

leaning alone against her stainless sink?

Whose voices rise and fall beyond the door,

laughing at memories she no longer shares?

Why, all alone, with company nearby,

does she continue in this twilit room?

When, steered by others’ choices, did she veer

into the path of this oncoming train?

How many landscapes have absorbed her gaze?

How many years will measure her defeat?

Where love wanders, the faithful fall behind,

to seek solace among what ruins they find.

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

How many battles (Day 1232)

How many battles 

can we fight   how many 

can we win 

the sky itself bearing down 

on us   

the sun   wrapped 

in a blanket of sedition

we yearn for lost freedoms 

that may never have been ours

and for justice

which surely never was 

we cry out his name 

ears reverberating with 

a thunderous silence 

on the bruised morning air

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Reading ahead (Day 1231)

Page by page   

they flipped 

ahead   through 

summer to fall   

hoping to learn 

how it would 

all turn out

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Even the stars (Day 1230)

Even the stars were wrong 

there   each constellation 

a reminder   we spent years 

moon-gazing   candle burning

long after midnight   we mapped 

the erosion of our hearts   

and charted our course home   

of course we expected to be alone

and that much is true   still

imagine our surprise at finding 

it was we   and not the stars 

who had been wrong

(c) 2020 by Hannah Six