joannagilmanhyde

"Good Morning, World!"

Moving Day

Eye wish I could say

“I slept like a log”

But managed to have

A magnificent dream:

In a public place here somewhere —

A marina for instance with shopping

(There is no place like that here)

I watched in awe

With babe in arms

(My first grandchild yet

To be conceived)

An avalanche into the sea

Complete with smoke

And flying debris

And one giant Balancing Rock

Which landed geologically

Briefly

Before tumbling

Away from me

 

Burnt Sienna

After the tepid hot tub

She lay decorously along

Her scattered floor

Elbow against an old hairy pillow

To talk of her latest dumpster dive

 

Peak’s 30th

It’s still going on

In slow motion

With Eggs Benedict at noon

And a hike through old growth spruce

To a misty mountain lake

Where I yelled out

“Happy Birthday Peak”

To listen to it’s echo

Forever

The Silver Bird

I had wanted to build

A silver bird —

Eagle perhaps

With a golden EYE

But not having the place

In which to cast

Out my desire

I withdraw

My clause

Christmas Dinner

Christ wasn’t brought up

But it was ok

To talk of how pigs are killed

When their brains are missed

And how they drink the blood

Of their buddies —

This guest had brought

Peanut butter Haagen-Dazs

And when her story was over

She got up to do the dishes

And handed out the spoons

Christmas Eve

The Greenhouse

Eye have opened

A candle of musk

On my first morning

In Haida Gwaii

I am drinking my coffee

Black

In the dark of my hippy room

With deer pelt on the floor

By my bed

Of brown

And bone

And feathers

Off To School

Langley, British Columbia 10:30am

Amidst the droplets of melting ice

Surrounding each eternal branch

Eye watched the grand daughter

Off to school

In coat bedecked with stars

Halifax International Airport

Eye have shed the garb

Of Christmas

In favour of jeans and sneakers

To board three planes out West

To see my family

Of children

Veiled Sky

The view before me

Of the veiled sky

— distant edge of rain

Before the faint illumination

Tells me I am alone

To see

But not alone

 

Cottage Country

Church spires have disappeared today

Against a backdrop of white-ish grey

The day is murky , still and dreich

I’ve a longing to cast away