Bitter Hours
Today, fall sprinkled its first bitter hours.
Still, the green leaves might drift
on a chill wind—
less than, more than before,
shifting restlessly
until they are gone.
On this morning, the cool air
tousled dryly and settled in heaps
against the evenings to come.
Winter’s stillness,
like a shawl, enfolds,
whispering of days
aching with airless brilliance.
© 2004, Hannah L. Six
And another, which I wrote during an extremely slow day at my last job (the one I joyously left in order to work as a writer and writing coach!)...
Woman Worshipping
Sordid chocolate woman
trudges languidly
through a luscious
winter mist—
tongue always bitter
and dreaming enormously
of cool sweet lust
Goddess vision—
delicate symphony
tender, panting petal—
delirious lather of need
worshipping a drunk void
of eternity.
© 2005, Hannah L. Six
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