The Hawk Portico 7:40pm
Down by The Guzzle tonight
I saw a young gull
with His breathy Beep – Beep —
He was with a parent gull
presumably
Who flew a few yards off
perhaps because of My proximity —
and Young Gull flew too
and circled overhead, beeping
to land
straight down
beside His Bond
Barrington Passage 1:16pm
I’ve walked across
My First Fall Leaves
upside down, the leaves
not Me
Oh — not Me — I have
all the tools at My Reach
for The Greatest, Grandest
entry of All —
I have The Seasons
set before Me:
beginning with Autumn
when I laid out My Canvas
on Michael Jackson’s birthday
when I signed My Name on October 10th
when I moved to Nova Scotia
and had My 2.4 Children —
Oh I was happy
until My Mother Died
but then, even then
I had the shock of newness
in The Shower Of Lights
to ponder, to confound everyone
around Me
to culminate in October
the month of My Baby Girl
to release My Self
inside the reassuring caress
of The Littlest Man
to Whom I have linked My Self
in My Mind
for every last season of Fall
The Hawk Deck 9:55am
I have a view
from The Corner of My Deck
where the open steps go down
to the grass
beyond which is the hedge
of bamboo, the scrub spruce
& one silhouetted roof-line
meeting the horizon
of silver glitter
which is Mine
The Hawk Deck Rail 8:55am
The Ocean is so calm
I see only one silver streak
along the horizon
and the occasional
silver glint
spark
closer in
The Hawk Portico 5:47pm
I wonder what happened
to The Clothes I left in Atlantic
when I left My Husband
for Dr Blair —
how long did They stay
in the closet Peter built
— My Shoes —
— I can’t remember
what shoes —
did He take Them
to The Salvation Army?
— but Here —
here on The Hawk
where silence greets Me
from My Red Deck Chair
where I can hear a bird fly
or a neighbour’s flag flap
and the surf, always the surf
— Here I needn’t ask —
The Hawk Outpost 9:34am
The Swath Of Silver
Beyond My Post
Blinds Me To Its Essence
But Reminds Me
Of My Security
In My Lovely House
By The Sea
The Hawk Deck 2:50pm
I am grown up now
the squawk of the Jay cannot lure
Me back —
when I speak in childish tones
it is to emphasize My Desire —
My Vision Of Black —
I Am A Figure Of Wonderment
& The World
must always
wonder
The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:34pm
No haiku tonight —
I’ll write something
long & drawn out
like how I conjured up
Nothing
from one of My Thought Cycles
& ended up not knowing
what to think
or why
or how —
I have recovered
here on my Tomato-coloured Couch
where I am comfortable
at Home
relatively relaxed
with A Husband on His Computer
telling Me to take a break
The Tomato-coloured Couch 2:50pm
Today in The Little Store
in Clark’s Harbour
which I patronize
as much as I can
I was addressed
by a sardonic neighbour
as “Mrs Blair” — boy
has She got My Number
Joanna Gilman Hyde 