by Joanna Gilman Hyde

The Hawk Portico 2:22pm

The waves speak to Me

not as a neighbour would

but as a mother might:

“Shhh, Joge, Shhh

Everything Will Be Al-right “

The birds speak to Me

of the waves beyond

as if the chirps & calls

& singular silver notes

are accent marks

to the surging shoreline

The fog speaks to Me

through the echo of its horn



the readied speech

of melodic birds

& the steady rush

of tide

The insects speak to Me

landing on My Pages

as if in observation

of My finalizing penmanship

telling Me to go ahead

“Soak it all in and

let it all out”