Joanna Gilman Hyde

Eye have My Son

@ 5

@ 30

And My Daughter

@ 23

Eye photographed each

Rocky Mountain pass we drove

But not one Grand Kid

I Walked through Haida Gwaii

Like Mary Poppins

Cleaning as I went

Along the down-trodden roads

Named Hippy Hill

& 6th Avenue

Happy in the mountain mist

And very light rain —

I will wear my grey wool coat

And black fur gloves

Again there someday

This morning I picked up the pieces

Of nearly one third

Of “Stratospheric Universe ”

Blown apart by severe winds

While I walked in Haida Gwaii

In light rain.

Now I will make more and more

And more

Out of my handfuls

Out of my tubfuls

And crop the remainder

To contemplate an island

Is to contemplate The Self

Individual and alone

But for the sky and sea

And those who dare

To live upon its striking shores.

This Morning I Walked

Before a gleam of gold

Between 2 Peaks

With My Son

And His Dog —

I watched the swath of mist

Between the inlet & cove

Of undulating scapes

& bulbous islands below

Today eye lost

A breakfast twenty

Somewhere between

Peak’s vacating sublet

And the convenience store

Somewhere amongst

The ramshackle outfitting

Of the mountainous contrivance

Of Northern Town Living

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

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

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