Just a glimpse (Day 407)

Once a smooth 

emerald-velvet breast

—where silver lights 

played and twigs rattled, 

concrete crackled, 
and sometimes,
sweetness sang
—deserts now splinter 

into angry glass, newly 

mown sand transformed 

by a blast of blazing 

heat such as the world 

has seldom known.

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Sand dunes in Rub' al Khali, Arabia's "empty quarter". 
Acquired by the Advanced Spaceborne Thermal Emission 
and Reflection Radiometer, or ASTER, aboard 
NASA's Terra Earth-orbiting satellite.

World Like a Cat Toy (Day 313)

Sometimes the world 

feels like a cat’s toy, 

a little blue-green ball, 

new, shiny, frantically 

spun about for a while, 

then batted under the bed 

and soon forgotten. 

For weeks, months, or (yes), 

even years, the toy remains 

inert in dust-laden darkness.

But, on a far-off moving day, 

someone may find it, 

pick it up, and say, 

“Hey, remember this?” 

Then, once again, the little ball 

will enjoy more light and 

find renewed favor, and be 

maniacally spun about, until 

it is batted under the bed again.

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: Moritz320

Conscious Planet (Day 306)

raw and ugly   sawed blankly through 

the black green hillside of tumbledown 

trees presaging landslides to come   

slipping and slumming down on every 

gambler who packs his ivory-colored heart 

on the back of a public flirtation or 

a private-jet barter for a smallish blue planet 

careening through emptiness without 

a driver   its liquid center sloshing and 

splashing like a fringe-festival flask in 

the governor’s pocket   tender and aquatic   

fragile and pliant   she will rise to her full 

height one day and exact her molten revenge

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: Jim D Griggs, US Geological Survey 

Mirror (Day 292)

Shivering mirror

petals punctuate 

each breath  rising

and subsiding

rippling outside-in  

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: AdrianKirby

In All the World (Day 289)

Not a care 

  exists 

    in all 

    the world

for us

   our dreams 

   our lies  our loves

   our losses

beyond our own

sun  

   moon  

      distant 

   spiraling 

galaxies 

     none will 

pause 

for a single 

moment  consider 

or disregard 

our empires of 

self/importance 

we can 

rest peacefully

in this 

knowledge  take 

solace  and 

breathe awhile. 

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: Earth and her moon from Saturn’s rings 

NASA/JPL-Caltech/Space Science Institute

Angels Admitted (Day 222)

In these hours of fascination 

the mountains, running north 

to south to north, have had 

the uncommon good sense—or 

imagination—to admit angels. 

Not to be left out, watery realms 

from oceans to streams also 

extended gracious invitations, 

but leave no doubt about it:

it was the mountains who 

started the trend. Now, when 

the very air seethes with wishes 

and threats, an angel on bended 

knee, can be found in every puddle, 

on every street corner. Do you doubt 

the truth of this? Then drive beyond 

the clipped seams of your cities, 

into a rolling countryside on a cool 

autumn morning. There, in the small 

valleys and gullies, where creeks trickle 

and rivulets flow, you will see, with 

your very own eyes: angels rising 

in ribbons from the earth, and 

on the hushed air, their misty sighs.

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: CGCowboy

Our Heroes (Day 214)

Are you, our heroes,

tumbling into dull despair?

Forgetting how 

the ripest fruits are worth 

the highest price?

Don’t fear the flashing 

lights that wake your 

bedroom walls at night.

Don’t gauge the value 

of the prize 

on the violence of the fight.

Do you recall how 

those you followed, 

merrily, shook with mirth—

imagining, with lust, 

the day the meek receive 

the Earth?

Allow the sky its blue, and 

clouds their varied shades,

your voice to shout 

your truth, authentic 

love to win the day.

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: Parade for returning Apollo 11 astronauts, NASA

Blue Fish Fly (Day 206)

Blue fish fly and catfish 

cry, on fence-posts 

beneath an apricot moon.

It’s June, and the world 

is beautiful—in bloom, 

our world is beautiful—

rising from peace, 

like a distant choir, listen 

when the wind shrugs 

her shoulders, the notes 

draped like lace on the trees. 

It’s Monday, the world is 

welcoming us, arms open, 

with a grandmother’s love, 

and maybe the worst is over, 

or almost, and maybe 

you know all the answers, 

things are already better, 

and maybe it’s not so 

frightening, watching 

the shining blue fish fly, and 

hearing the thoughtful catfish 

cry out their poems, 

high on their fence-posts 

beneath the apricot moon.

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: Kolisberg via Wikimedia