Joanna Gilman Hyde

The Hawk Portico NOON

When I hear The Squawk of The Jay

It stirs something in Me

some nebulous touch of nostalgia

I cannot put My Finger on

It has something to do with My Childhood

or My Growing Up

solitary in Valley Cottage

maybe in The Backyard Woods —

I had few friends:

one kooky one

Who always chanted “Hyde Hyde —

Take Me Outside”

when I was happy to oblige

after some pretend reluctance