Tuesday, April 25, 2017

Resilience (Day 97)

Photo: Neaco

Resilience is a robin's wing,
a footprint in the sand,
a charcoal sketch drawn loosely,
with a deft touch, 
lace-curtain-patterned sunlight 
on the floor, 

The front porch swing, 
a sky of blowsy clouds, 
the hand you reach for 
in a surging crowd, 
the weight of a tomato 
on its vine. 

Resilience is a garden plot, 
footsteps on a gravel path, 
live music at a party, 
heard from outside,
a cloud of luminescent butterflies.

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Monday, April 24, 2017

Salt on Velvet (Day 96)


salt on velvet
a desperate spilling
of diamonds 
a melancholy
of crystal tippling 
this way and
interrupted crying
joy depends 
on the shimmering 
unexpected appearance of 
wandering possibility

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Sunday, April 23, 2017

Belle Dame (Day 95)


Delicate jasmine settles 
calls wearing his silk 
turban    a pale metal weight 
above her 

Taking measured steps 
she   among the phlox   keenly
accepts how it is not 
to diminish but 
to leave
to take

Pay or play Belle Dame
before the blazing 
tulip moat 
fluttering at your castle walls
melts your name 
like dog-day ice cream 
through a cone

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image above created from original photo, of Sissinghurst Castle gardens, by Elisa Rolle

Saturday, April 22, 2017

Earth Day, 2017 (Day 94)

Earth Day, 2017 (Day 94)

heavy tilting planet
senses the shift    coming 
    of concrete 
and day    thick and shadeless 
concave sidewalk 
ramrod feet from breathing 
tree   kind    houses retract
bleached neighborhood    sky white 
the world    thus 
causing    one lean   imagined 
dimension of pretty 
    spinning flatness

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Note: Photo is an edited version of one taken by Philip Grimshaw

Friday, April 21, 2017

One Word (Day 93)


week of one 
floods us    you 
can't argue with  
these    things 
     spiral out 
of control 
     and love
filters out expertise 

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Thursday, April 20, 2017

Private Ballet (Day 92)

Streaming rivers of silk,
We performed a private ballet,
Seeing ourselves on stage, 
Inhabiting our own glory.

Hands clasped, toes turned out,
We bowed to wild applause,
Lingering in the dream,
Reluctant to give up the story.

(c) by Hannah Six

*Photo: Tatiana Riabouchinska, one of the leading ballerinas of the 1930's, darns a ballet slipper (via Wikimedia Commons)

Wednesday, April 19, 2017

Seven Days (Day 91)


More than seven days have passed— 
Turned to dandelion fluff and floated, 
Wafted on the April wind—since
This silence bloomed and filled my head. 
From dawn to dark, I waver in a dream, 
Safe from words and whispers, I imagine, 
Surely, in another week will fade.

(c) 2013, by Hannah Six