When You Rise (Day 397)

When you rise above 

the clouds  say hello 

to the blue for me

memorize its myriad 

hues and shades from 
ice to indigo  tell me if 
you can see the stars 

when you look up or 

if they are hidden by that 
golden light warming 

your flushed cheeks  rest 
a moment on 
the terrible wind 
that bears you aloft 

and look down on 

the soft undulations of 
the sea stretching like 

bleached cotton sheets 
beneath you  only the quilts 

on our shared bed 

can enfold you as softly  
only my arms support you 
with the strength of that 
high gale and 
the roughest tides 
of time we long to sail 
together will quiet when 
you are near again

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: macayran via Pixabay

A cloud, a wave (Day 336)

A cloud   a wave

           an inhalation   supported 

by turbulent uprisings 

  roiling   

        amassing   

drawing the horizon 

    up 

in its grand designs   

strength 

   lending strength   fury 

feeding fury

unfolding

unbending

              poised 

on the breathless   edge

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: Peter Gill/UK

Beach Fire (Day 328)

Freighters’ lights, like stars,

glimmer and swim

in the distance. Between swells, 

they fall from view. Our eyes 

track their progress, instinctively

seeking their reappearance

each time they drop into vast 

watery valleys below the black 

horizon. Watching driftwood burn,

we feel the cold sand dampening.

Nearby, waves tumble and hiss,

closer now than before. The tide 

is turning. We must go.

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: Aris_Tsitiridis

Under the Weather (Day 323)

Ears ringing like 

a copper kettle: 

Tea time! But no

one is boiling water.

Aching clouds settle 

into bed beneath 

drifts of dreams, 

of coral sand 

and oceans so bright

they hurt your eyes.

One sighs to think

of such things.

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: Pixabay

Some Days Are Like That (Day 290)

Some days are like that 

special stone, gleaming 

like a gem among 

the shattered shells and 

flabby mats of kelp—

the one you plucked 

from the sand, and held 

out in your cold hand 

for my admiration, before 

tucking it in your pocket, 

for luck. Now, dry and

bleached, it lives deep 

in my dresser drawer, 

surprising me sometimes,

when it appears in my 

cold, outstretched hand, 

so far away from home.

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: Isle of Skye, FrankWinkler 

Sea-swept (Day 279)

they danced at midnight

on a sea-swept isle  all coral 

haze and lagging rhythms

less than one day’s sail beyond

the bounds of measurable time

into the early morning 

hours like embers glow 

their rolling hues diffused against 

the crumbled walls of a secret 

beach embraced by headlands 

and a jealous sky   they unwrapped 

the gifts they carried  unfolding 

tales half by half  attentive 

to the rushing surf  

each listening  awestruck  to the sea

hushed and tender  whispering 

from deep inside the chambered shell

of the other’s upturned heart

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Free image via Pexels

Cypress (Day 262)

sea-beguiled cypress

intent on sashiko waves

rippling whispers

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: skeeze