THE HAWK PORTICO 3:00pm
by Joanna Gilman Hyde
If I sit on The Portico
I can’t see My Laundry Line
but I can see a neighbour’s
with The Ocean in behind
the length of line is parallel
The Hanging Fabrics Flicker
They Catch My Eye
like a fire
as Wind Blows Through Them Quicker
Joanna Gilman Hyde 
Many of your pieces have the atmosphere of haiku; that photosnap of the immediate.
Ben, I’m so glad you commented. I posted this poem with reluctance because I feel the last line is corny. It’s really only for the sake of the rhyme and that’s so obvious I wonder if it weakens the whole description — and what’s the point of writing about wash on a line? But I wrote it today, a day which seems to have my writing pouring out, so I posted it. I was trying to find an email address for you when you commented. Thank you.
Oddly enough, I didn’t even hear the rhyme. If there had been rhyme throughout Perhaps I would have spotted it. Looks as if you needn’t worry. 😀 Presumable my comment will have furnished you with the e-mail. Now I await whatever you were thinking to write me. Spooky that it arrived just when you were looking for it.