Joanna Gilman Hyde

The surf tonight has a mournful tone

perhaps the cause is my frame of mind —

a young man is gone

my daughter knew him well

his family grieves together

while I walk out mine

Jevon Link came to Eliza’s door

ten years ago on Valentine’s Day

holding a bouquet of roses

pink I think.

She dried

and painted

them.

I look at her watercolour

every morning.

Here Eye sit

upon my deck

to live my life

oh what the heck

Ive had my share

if tragic woes

but Ive come this far

and so it goes

The cats are fine

Eye groom them well

to sit with them

for a spell

how long Eye say

to keep this up

but to be sure

Ill sip my cup

of Decaf pure

the finest blend

to continue on

around the bend

Eye hear the laughter

of the gulls

and wonder too

what theyre thinking of

they live their lives

as Eye do mine

to struggle onward

to rest a time

as Eye do now

to hear the waves

greet my ear

all my days

Eye found a feather

on the beach

sitting brown & gold

Eye left it there

for another’s reach

and for him to Behold

When Eye came back

It was there!!

In Its place upon the sand

so Eye picked it up

— It matched my hair —

and stuck It in my bow

On my dateless Saturday night

Eye walked along The Hawk Beach

to view a newly married couple

standing clothed in the waves

to be photographed

in pale gold sun

soaking the bride’s gown of muted rose

She rose like Venus

with Her Man at Her Side

Molten Silver upon The Sea

You gleam for me

so naturally

I hear you break

upon The Shore

and wish to listen

forever more

Yesterday I was saved

not by Christ

but by my own fortitude

from the depths

of a mini-depression

wherein I lost my sense of self

my ability to care for myself

in the turmoil of questioning

My Purpose

and now today

I sit in my corner room

overlooking the Atlantic

to listen to the silvery whisps

of the birdsong

I love

wafting through

my open window

Eye had a lakeside cup of Bengal Spice

offered by Corinne from Pubnico

Who lived the life

under Her Canopy of leaves

of 22 years

beside the Lac d’en Bas

She saw a turtle

from Her Dock

(complete with wooden diving board)

Eye met Her Husband

of salty stock

Who showed me Art

found in burls

and tree knots —

a wolf, a whale, a dragon head

and out in His Back Field

His “Camouflaged” Trailer

to hide His Cars

amongst His Collection

of ancient tractors, lumber mills

and What-not

For the readership of the Tri County Regional Centre for Education

Some poems have adult content and should not be considered when viewing the resume for

Joanna Gilman Hyde

Eye sat in my black car

in a short red dress

in front of Tim Horton’s

and thought

This is what prostitutes do