Monday, November 30, 2020

Then (Day 1411)


From a promontory of tumbled rocks   

an infinite view of timeless trees  

vast white wings cutting a rising mist  

weather-softened hills reclining   one 

against the other — like rotund bathers 

in a Belle Epoque painting 


Alone in the wind  she climbed

out onto the rocks   and in his hand 

a camera   Be careful   he said   and

because they were together she only 

laughed as he snapped her picture 


She has it   still    the photo of a girl   

her back to the world   turning 

toward the camera  looking directly 

into the lens   behind which   obviously   


are the eyes of her lover   whose image 

she captured just moments later   against 

that fathomless green backdrop   he stands   

facing the edge and the endless beyond   


She gazes now   at the curve of his shoulder   

at the angle of his back   and tells herself 

Then   I should have known   then


(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Sunday, November 29, 2020

Through the night (Day 1410)


you   with a shrug

unfamiliar until now

thin as kite tails

a wink   say never

straining to hear 

centuries of paradise   

ears trained on every hour   

wondering at the music 

of rain falling 

through the night

like stars    

like a scattering — 

half-remembered notes

from a nearly-forgotten song


(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Saturday, November 28, 2020

Fleeting (Day 1409)


One white butterfly

flickering among bare branches


no, it is merely a half-leaf

catching the sun as it falls   


for a fleeting moment, though,

spring was more than a promise


and the green-gold world

seemed to have come alive again


(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Friday, November 27, 2020

How close (Day 1408)



they are               so tired

every couple of weeks

of months            of do not 

he warmed up the Rambler

go   do not   see   do not 

drove us to the new drug store

and they are       afraid of 

bought us ice cream cones

change   understanding     

then let us wander the aisles

         how close           

we could be 

and imagine   for half an hour 

         how close 

we are      


© 2020 by Hannah Six

Thursday, November 26, 2020

(Far Less) Ominous, Pt. 6 (Day 1407)

 

Something, in the woods, will change.

The leaves will soon be rearranged.

Vultures will yield to chickadees — 

nature endures, in times like these.


© 2020 by Hannah Six

Wednesday, November 25, 2020

(Not) Ominous, Pt. 5 (Day 1406)


Sometimes, missing yesterday

steals the delight of now away.

Contentment, gratitude and peace

sustain hope in times like these.


© 2020 by Hannah Six


Tuesday, November 24, 2020

Ominous, Pt. 4 (Day 1405)


Somehow, he must understand

he’s out — we spoke, and our votes stand

— whether or not he disagrees.

Ominous in times like these. 


© 2020 by Hannah Six


Monday, November 23, 2020

Ominous, Pt. 3 (Day 1404)


Someone wore a Biden hat

A man in bright red knocked him flat.

Lifelong friends — now enemies.

Ominous in times like these.


© 2020 by Hannah Six


Sunday, November 22, 2020

Ominous, Pt. 2 (Day 1403)


Someplace magical has burned,

And Washington is unconcerned.

Sequoia snow floats on the breeze —

Ominous in times like these.


© 2020 by Hannah Six


Saturday, November 21, 2020

Ominous, Pt. 1 (Day 1402)

Something, in the woods, has died.

I knew it by the vultures’ cries,

Their dark shapes swooping 

through the trees.

Ominous, in times like these.


(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Friday, November 20, 2020

What isn’t confusing (Day 1401)


Flock of robins singing 

into a November landscape 

as if it were spring


Translucent trail of sepia 

ink flowing through 

a gold-nibbed pen 


Once-green hills glowing violet 

in winter’s shifting light


Understanding 

they are no longer


Loose-limbed weight 

of a purring cat kneading 

a woolly blanket 


Single candle flame flickering 

through colored glass


Sounds of children playing

outdoors late 

into a summer evening


Knowing you always will


How a song leaves you

reeling with the sense

of a time and place long past


(c) 2020 by Hannah Six


Thursday, November 19, 2020

Don’t say winter (Day 1400)



Please don’t say 

winter 

to me yet.


Countless leaves 

still cling 

to sycamore & oak. 


Robins receive 

the sun

with pale praise, 


and I am  

unwilling 

to celebrate goodbye. 


(c) 2020 by Hannah Six


Wednesday, November 18, 2020

Just before (Day 1399)



And there is morning

that immeasurable tranquility   

poised on the edge 

of a moment  just before 

you open your eyes


And there is night  

when you   caressed by 

pale blue strands of moonlight

lay   willing to be 

subsumed by slumber


And there this 

waiting place   where

the near nearness of you 

is more seductive by far 

than the mere pressure 

of a lover’s touch


© 2020 by Hannah Six


Tuesday, November 17, 2020

Trying (Day 1398)



keep trying 

if it’s meant to be 

otherwise   forever

hear the promises 

without concern

like giving 

up near the end 

of acceptance

stay   move

who would want to?


© 2020 by Hannah Six


Monday, November 16, 2020

In the end (Day 1397)

Can’t stay here.

Can’t go there. 

Nothing in.

Nothing out.

It’s enough

to make you 

wonder

sometimes

if it will be

worth it

in the end. 


(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Sunday, November 15, 2020

What to say (Day 1396)



Knowing what to say was 

not always the problem

It was how to say it. 

How to turn the lightdark sky

to dawn with just a word. 

How to dig out a broken cork

with a clever turn of phrase. 

Those days there was little else 

of concern — only language and 

doors opening on every side. 

Doors and windows, now closed 

and curtained, call as you will. 

Day and night forever separated 

by unrelenting glass and steel. 


© 2020 by Hannah Six

Saturday, November 14, 2020

Friday, November 13, 2020

Uncertainty (Day 1394)



Uncertainty ripples across the fields

drawing its delicate blade 

of frigid wind across a fragile sky  


Underfoot, the path cracks, splinters

neither helping nor consoling those 

whose glacial grief transforms realms


(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Thursday, November 12, 2020

New moon (Day 1393)

As the clouds 

began to tear

we glimpsed 

the new moon

and   in silence   

wondered at 

the brilliance 

of our fortune


(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Wednesday, November 11, 2020

Suspended (Day 1392)


A spate of raindrops 

patters on parched leaves


collecting on the tines

of entwined twigs 


and branches  strange 

worlds suspended   held 


captive  until  

according to its time


each trembling droplet 

is dispersed to fate 


(c) 2020 by Hannah Six


Tuesday, November 10, 2020

As love will (Day 1391)


we hoped  

for tolerance inclusion    

for calm peace

for kindness empathy


we dreamed

of equality justice

of sincerity honesty

of independence freedom


we struggled resisted 

we waited persisted

we won prevailed


as love will

as love must

so must we


© 2020 by Hannah Six



Monday, November 9, 2020

As expected (Day 1390)



Without comment  routines proceeded  

as expected  they began to fall  

while the fires burned  and all we wanted

was to open our arms in welcome

and all we wanted 

was to repair  to reclaim  to reunite

the world unwound like so much smoke  

while we waited  in the shadow hours 

together  anticipating the break of day


© 2020 by Hannah Six

Sunday, November 8, 2020

Charged (Day 1389)



I.

a novel idea  

this flattery of features

obscenely charged


II.

we broke 

a suitable silence 

& wondered at the sound


(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Saturday, November 7, 2020

First: Numbness (Day 1388)



First   numbness

unease   disbelief   shifting 

and seething beneath 

unheard conversations

at nearby tables

still   numbness

white sun glaring hard 

off the road   nearly empty 

but for a few 

we took the wrong direction

clinging numbness

and I park my car

beside an uneasy carmine sea   

ripples lapping at my tires

and weep 

with relief

later  at a red light

silver car   blue decal

in her rearview mirror  

the driver’s eyes meet mine

she smiles 

and I smile back at her


(c) 2020 by Hannah Six

Friday, November 6, 2020

Hush (Day 1387)



When he closed it,

the cover whispered: Hush.

So he allowed himself 

to float 

on the cool blue surface

of the evening. This ending 

was meant to be 

savored. 


© 2020 by Hannah Six


Thursday, November 5, 2020

Portrait (Day 1386)



He is beside himself

in the gallery  vacuous

surrounded 

by succulent courage 

& bittersweet honesty

he stands out  

a withered grape  beside 

himself  beside a vacuous

vision  an ormolu fantasy

defined by a fall 

of acrid acorns  gathered

beside & around him 

the judgment of time spitting 

& hissing like acid rain


© 2020 by Hannah Six


Wednesday, November 4, 2020

One drop at a time (Day 1385)


no sound in quiet rivers 

like the calling of your name

no silent harmonies 

no pale winds 

singing through parted windows

loosening your hold and

interrupting your thoughts

one drop at a time the rain falls

and wild things grow

neither believing nor laughing 

at this setting sun   knowing

there will be light enough


© 2020 by Hannah Six

Tuesday, November 3, 2020

Deciding time (Day 1384)


We’ve waited   we’ve waited 

for this   our time of deciding

the deciding time   now

distant mountains take on a violet hue

we wait   in his ruthlessly gilded rooms

he waits for us   alone  

on their concrete beds   anonymous 

children wait for us   yellow leaves glowing 

against a darkening sky   struggling 

for voice   for breath   the victims of denial 

wait for us   vast and delicate 

worlds   poised on the edge of destruction 

wait for us   as the full moon wanes  

casting her blue light 

across stalk-stubbled fields   

under bridges and in woods   they wait 

for us   housebound and hungry   

unsupported   unassisted   silent

where before there was song   they wait  

and it is we who will decide

who will answer the call


© 2020 by Hannah Six

Monday, November 2, 2020

Someone else’s company (Day 1383)



You get used to someone else’s company   their quiet presence 

in the garden  a warm indentation in their pillow 

when you wake at night & they are gone   you get used to 

the scent of their shampoo lingering on post-shower steam   

the vulnerability of socks  curled inward on themselves  

strewn haphazardly in the vicinity of the hamper  

you get used to the sound of another person’s breath  

even when it is impossible to hear   & the possibility that 

they might come to you  at any time  with a piece of news 

too interesting to hoard   to their mail littering the table  

the coolness of their coat when they come indoors 

after shoveling snow   the crackling of a secret butterscotch  

& whispered nonsense of late-night dreams  (when you stay up 

reading later than you should)   the sense of will be   

& of has been   a cup of coffee cooling on a kitchen counter 

& the subtle click of a discreetly-closed door


© 2020 by Hannah Six

Sunday, November 1, 2020