Blue is the Hour (Day 169)

Blue 

is the hour 

when you 

come home,

the twilit moment 

when, alone, I 

put down my pen

and turn 

inside-out

toward 

the window,

gauging the light,

delighting in 

the soft summer 

sparkle of fireflies,

before you 

arrive.

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Photo: Oia, Santorini: Blue Hour, Pedro Szekely

How We Talk Now (Day 115)

(Travel Journal Page, Laura Mandelbaum)

How we talk now 

text now thoughts through 

hands thumbs screen 

like pen on paper 

no midnight scent of ink

or glide of gold nib soft 

as caramel on a slick  

old-fashioned journal page

we can write in bed 

or on the train or in the car or 

simply speak 

our stories lives letters

poetry on the page 

in our own voices 

different voices careless 

boisterous silly strong   

tongue fingers thumbs 

an accent different from 

the gentle rolling 

hybrid print and cursive

that I used to write 

my father's mother like 

notes dashed off to mine 

now love dispatched 

post haste with 

a few taps of my thumbs

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six