And rest (Day 1090)

At times, silence is peaceful 

as midnight, a soft blanket 

of quiet that settles 
in comforting folds.

Wrap yourself 
in its warmth—savor it, 

this moment of not doing, 

not being what you are 

expected to be. And rest 

assured: Our noisy world 

will interrupt soon enough.

© 2020, by Hannah Six

Three-quarter time (Day 1078)

Music, softly, and some birds,

a red wing flashes in the trees, 

while, in the background, clouds 

sing to crowds of far-off hills. 

It’s not a large home, but it’s mine, 

and, leaning on this window sill,

dinner steaming on the stove, 

I know: It’s more than most 

will have, and for this 

three-quarter time, enough.

© 2020, by Hannah Six

Suggestion of treasures (Day 1025)

What love, that stirs you so deeply for this

world, which knows, intimately, each painful 

step of your path (a staircase, spiraling into 

an unseen end) to listen to peace as it bends 

mysteriously out of sight, to explore its secrets

—tranquility is a curiosity you must satisfy

though you fear the journey, hunger for a way, 

and dread your fathomless lake of yearning, 

you wade into the suggestion of treasures ahead, 

the story of a garden, growing secretly behind 

your shadowed walls, and walk down a twisting, 

time-strewn lane toward the unknown source

(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: krantzpeter/Pixabay