“I Heard A Bird Fly,”
declared an astonished visitor
to My Mother’s Island House
when I was eleven years old.
–
July 23rd 2012
I Live In The Land of Spirituality–
if I lie in My Bed
on the verge of depression
I am in Error
for I am eternally, rightfully happy
on My Deck or Portico
with Hunter and Eliza and The Cats
and The Birds.
The Jays of Valley Cottage
mix with The Crows of Nova Scotia
I could hear Them
before writing
but now that My Book is out
open on My Lap
I hear the swooshing of The Hedge
& guess The Next Bird To Be–
–I have no guess–
–I’m waiting to hear–
a car pulls into a driveway
a neighbour tinkers in His Shed
so I move to The South of The House
–to The Portico–
where Those Waves are a woosh
with Gulls more audible
& now too, a Jay
July 22nd 2012 THE HAWK DECK 10:46am
–
I slurped the last
of a juice pack
& thought of how I didn’t eat
years ago when I weighed
111 lbs
& what did I drink?
–
July 23rd 2012 THE HAWK BEDROOM 9:04am
–
Today I Rise
to The Edge of Depression
sitting in The Bed
of My Pea Soup Hospital Room
with The Window Wide Open
to let in Bird Calls
of Wellness
Joanna Gilman Hyde 