A hint of sweetness (Day 404)

Winter is sleeping 

off an angry outburst 
now  its freshness faded  

and spring’s impending 

buds  sensing the end 

of long cold nights are 

forcing fall’s final leaves 

from their branches  

sending them flying 

toward the estuary  

striped gray and brown 

by three weeks of rain  

flooded with runoff 

from the foothills 

that glow like autumn 

in late afternoon 

when the fog breaks and

sunlight strokes last year’s 

storm-flattened grasses   

nomadic summer migrates 

northward now  fluttering  

open-ended  shallow  

but still in a deep sort of way 

and  straining toward it 

with open-mouthed desire 

we  confined to our nests  

yearn to grasp the slightest

wafer of warmth  a hint 

of sweetness in the air  

dreaming of bees humming 

over a bank of tiger lilies 

and heavy-headed peonies 

kissing the chalky gravel walk

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: John Singer Sargent, Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose (ca.1885), 
oil on canvas, photo courtesy Tate London/Wikimedia Commons

Feels Like May [Day 356]

Deep in February’s chill

it feels like May might never bloom,

but even in the darkest room,

light lingers longer every day,

and bitter winter cannot stay

forever, tempt it as you will.

Soon spiders, with their silver strands,

will spin new homes with certain flair,

And house-finch songs will float on air 

Above the lilting mockingbird,

And spring, more now than a mere word,

Will enchant the lifeless land.

Meanwhile, resist the icy slope—

Don’t let despair obscure bright hope.

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: pixundfertig/Pixabay

Too easy to blame (Day 308)

It would be 

too easy 

to blame this 

discontent 

on long-necked bottles 

and midnight rivers 

dusted with 

pollen and stars, 

too simple 

to make up 

excuses for 

the dwindling daylight 

and interminable 

weekend afternoons. 

Better by far

to face each hour 

boldly until 

one 

   by 

      one 

they slink back 

into their bespoke containers

so you can say 

fuck it 

and get on with things.

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: StockSnap

Mirror (Day 292)

Shivering mirror

petals punctuate 

each breath  rising

and subsiding

rippling outside-in  

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: AdrianKirby

Kafka (Day 269)

Kafka on the Shore

Finding Water

In a Sunburned Country

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

(After Nina Katchadourian)

Indulgence No.4 (Day 233)

it helps

to flood the stage 

with protest

like hearing every side 

from the wide clear skies  

of my late 

summer 

autumn  

falling  we went out 

undisguised  sweated  

and when 

we came home 

feeling angry  vile  

riled like 

a snake   

an unexpected freight train   

like the days 

of warm rain beyond 

the bruise-green clouds   

we had a precedent 

for the day 

of the storm 

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: Free-Photos