Trout (Day 408)

Overhanging branches  speckled brown as trout 

by months of unfiltered sun and lingering 

drought   spring-fed streams   cold 

and clean on the surface   water of many 

rivers   flowing warily westward   rising 

through narrow 

chasms of  

tumbling 

boulders

swiftening under bridges built 

when mystery veiled the moon 

then 

spreading out 

into the ease of a broad delta plain.

Looking down-river   watching 

water-spiders float effortlessly on the taut skin 

of a deep-plunging pool   shady niches 

harbor insect worlds and coarse bits 

of upstream-stories drift past 

tell tale rings on the green-black surface 

where fish rise to kiss the air

and all of this will help 

you see

and all you will see 

in all of this

is an iridescent flash—a fish darting 

into shadows in front of 

or behind rocks or submerged fallen trees—

swimming impossibly fast   like a dream

disappearing before your eyes 

because they spotted you 

before you 

were able to lure them with the subtle bait 

fastened on your glinting hook.

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: steinchen/Pixabay

Blue (Day 351)

blue 

blew through me

I knew the underside

of a frozen stream 

seeping through the sky

where its seams were 

still unfinished

new

I knew the rhythm 

of your blood 

inside the landscape 

of your veins

a pattern barely realized

yet recognizing my disguise

left you somehow

diminished

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Mt Rainier at Sunset, NOAA Library

Stanislaus, 1970 (Day 251)

violent spring snowmelt

the river abducts those it wants

to its silent gravel bed

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Photo: (c) 2005, Dick James

http://www.byways.org

Shades (Day 201)

shades of neighborhood 

we see day in day out 

these gardens parks 

forests swaying gently 

in the valley's breath 

gnarled from resisting 

mountainside Novembers

chestnuts clover green

blue tinged sycamores 

maples dark as merlot

gathering a harvest 

of white heat billowing

deep into the night

from concrete ribbons 

draped about their roots

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: Patricia.fidi

Bluebell Haiku (Day 159)

Bluebells bow their heads 

in the woods’ watery light

and pray for the world

(c) 2017 by Hannah Six

Photo: Tony Higsett

Lazy Meadows (Day 157)

 

Voluptuous 

moisture greens 

lazy meadows,

layered 

with haze and 

sunbeams,

thinly-sliced by 

the bittersweet 

perfume 

of decaying 

leaves.  

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Photo: Tuolumne Meadow, by Steve Dunleavy

Twelve Shooting Stars (Day 145)

 

Lazily undulating furrows stretch, 

an exotic love song, under 

the missing quarter moon

on this long and silky, rainy night. 

Twelve shooting stars will fall 

unseen, while Jupiter's 

murderous glow burns, fierce, behind 

the weary sky. Wandering, later, 

out to the fallow field, eyes still 

dreamy, breathing shallow, 

lightning barely flickers at the edge, 

the dozing sheep grow restive, 

mumbling their deepest fears to us, 

and one another. Deep blue ozone 

tints the balmy breath that gathers up 

the rain-slicked chestnut leaves, and 

whispers timeless secrets 

in our ears, to warm us on a distant 

winter night, when we'll dream 

of lullabies that only trees can hear.

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Photo: Chris Rand, Star falling into the aurora over the Kewaunee River, Wisconsin 

Indifference (Day 135)

Photo: NASA

Indifference turns Its back 

toward the fern embellished wall.

How poverty offends them.

False, soft voices rise and fall, 

like joy. A liquid starless 

sky obscures—rivers flood 

but truth is scarce.

Fragrant lies glissade, stirring 

ancient broken landscapes.

Forests will replace these things,

vast oceans will diminish fools.

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six