In a Crowd (Day 885)

I was not lonely

    alone   it took two

to make me so   sometimes

more   whole cities

    synchronized   crowds

        choreographed   precise

            clockwork movements

highlighting the quiet

in which I moved   

    enfolded   silent   

in their midst   alone I was 

not lonely   usually   it took 

    you to make me so

(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: Public Domain Pictures

Gallimaufry (Day 884)

Utterly transient, this wind-scoured day, 

lunching in your car, in the parking lot 

of a three-star restaurant, windows open 

to the sound of high heels tapping asphalt, 

of helium laughter, deliberately timed

Home, curtains wafting, another coffee, 

another walk-the-dog, neighbors creaking 

on hollow, hardwood floors, and phone 

silent as Sleeping Beauty, who waltzes in 

from a close-knit, southern town, muddy 

landscape of politics, religion, ignorance

We might all like to be someone someday, 

but luck is just a bundle of noise, hammers 

pound on a roof halfway down the block, 

vociferous robin holds forth in a cherry tree 

near the door, solo cricket tests the pale

afternoon air, waits, but no one answers

(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: Michael Jastremski/Open Photo

Prairie (Day 873)

The sun pricked diamonds 

in the air   we sat 

so still   barely moving 

under the leaden afternoon heat

in a berry-drenched murmur   

kind carmine Os scattered gemlike 

in the grass at our feet   

dreaming of the future   ancient 

and withered   almost quieter than 

the vivid lichen-scarred prairie  

persuasive as summer 

definite as January 

(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: Jakob Koganowsky, Farmhouse in the Summer 

Light (1927), oil on canvas, via Wikimedia Commons

Debut (Day 871)

where silvery clouds 

sway and waltz   swirling 

across the pristine 

cinnamon floor   blooming 

generous kisses melt 

a damask night 

averting innocence and

quenching vigorous thirsts

(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: Wilhelm Gause, Court Ball at 

the Hofburg (1900), via Wikimedia Commons

Still see her (Day 860)

In the subtle hours when imagination 

pirouettes   you may sometimes 

hear drifting clouds play 

a Mozart concerto to the red-blue sky   

listen   you can almost hear   

still see her   sense the unrecognizable   

a guest   uninvited   

but welcome in your house   

still see her   crumpled   

a velvet heap  against an otherwise-empty 

horizon   though you know she is not 

(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: Pixnio

Here, where you are (Day 859)

On certain clear-light days, 

when your attention wanders 

and mounds of clouds glow 

on the horizon, you still see 

her, looming, out of the corner 

of your eye, and your breath 

catches, a gasp of recognition:

Oh, there you are. 

But, before you can smile, all 

the miles and years recall you 

to yourself, reminding you that, 

while she is there, you can’t see 

her, because she is not here, 

where you are. And, in that 

moment, you are sorry to have 

been mistaken, because you 

have lost her all over again. 

(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: NOAA

Embossed (Day 839)

bright clues passing 

like a song 

through torn pages

between embossed covers

toward illumination

and the light-tinged

eastern sky

(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Undeterred (Day 836)

Feasting on a smoke-embroidered breeze

beneath the pleated silver sky

undeterred by drizzle  waves of voices 

ebb and flow  loose-limbed 

children roll  laughing  down a hill

landing in heaps among 

their parents  lolling damply on the lawn

(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: Henri Labasque, Mädchen in einer Mittelmeerlandschaft

(1907), oil on canvas, via Wikimedia Commons

Sequestered (Day 834)

Months crumble under 

days  toppling 

like boulders onto the road 

and  further down 

the path  no one notices 

soundless  coiled

the snakes  

sequestered among them  

(c) 2019, by Hannah Six

Image: Dan9124 via Wikimedia Commons