joannagilmanhyde

"Good Morning, World!"

End of The Wild

The Tomato-coloured Couch 1:50pm

Eye have seen my first and last

Flock of goldfinches flitting

Amongst thistle-like flowering weeds

To have become my summer backyard–

Tomorrow it gets mowed

By a man I have yet to meet

In an effort to move my house

Into the rest

Of this tidy neighbourhood

See The Sun

The Hawk Deck 7:15am 

The Sun looks like a planet

Glowing this morning

Inside a feathered cloud

Of not fog — a lateral segment of cloud

Radiating multitudinous lines of white

Along its southern reaches

Healing

The Hawk Corner Room 6:28am

Before the first glint of sun

I heard three notes

From a distant Loon —

The ancient sound of comfort

From a source I had not known

Since I was first divided

In My Mother’s womb

The Last Night

My Big Bedroom 6:25am

Eye reject the “love”

Of those blue-eyed creatures

Of sly smiles

And jolting gestures

Trying to put me

Inside the very boxes

Of their belongings

Eye want out of My House

The Greatest Gesture

My Bedroom 8:30am 

I upheld

His strong left arm

Couched around my shoulder

As we crossed an old street

In Sag Harbor

Over thirty years ago —

My neck has been starved

For a man’s working fingers

And I have worn a black bow

Ever since

Elsewhere

The Hawk Corner Room 6:20am 

Not so depressing

To watch the sun go down for

It’s always rising

 

The Visit

Port Clyde, NS

The breeze of a grandmother’s kitchen

Wafts in,

Complete with Kitty Kitty

On the window sill —

And a crow named “Mo”

— wrought iron but thin —

I am allowed His Chair

And privileged I will stay

Until The Day

Eye Die

Two Gulls

The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 4:30pm

Gully wants to make SURE

I Feed His Friend —

He sat on the rail and refused

My handout of chicken

And flew instead to His Companion

On a neighbour’s barn roof —

To sit with Her

And mewed, together

The most plaintive of mews

Lunch Time

The Tomato-coloured Couch 12:45pm

Today Eye fed a flock of gulls —

My Son was right —

Gully called all his friends

When he saw my plate

Of fries from last night —

He opened wide his big yellow beak

And threw his beautiful head back

To yell his loudest yell

And the big white creatures

Congregated — one crashed

Into the Scraggly Apple

And the leftovers were gone.

July 31st 5:25 am

The Hawk Corner Room 

Eye would infinitely prefer

To see the deep orange

Of  Self Organizing Galaxy 

At dawn along the moonlit blue

Of The Atlantic

Than The Western Sky

At evening which is only going

To disappear