The Hawk Portico Steps 1:38pm
Today I eat My Home Made Toast
out by a fading snow drift
I listen to the familiar surf
out past the thawing Cape
The Single Call of a nearby Crow
invites Me to This Feast
of My Outside Hour:
I Drink
The Hawk Window Seat 10:44am
Today I stuck My Head out
the sliding glass door
of My Kitchen
to hear The Chorus
of clamouring Jays
ushering in
The Promise
of a New Spring
The Hawk Kitchen 9:27am
I See Life Flicker
On This Coldest Of Mornings:
Birds Among Berries
The Hawk Queen Bed 12:40pm
I am The Black Crow Lady
right fist clutching at My Heart
No More Supper For My Family
No Care As To Where The Food Comes From
Or Who Makes It
–
No More Ears For The Radio
only rain & sleet can calm Me now
–
No More quiet “Good Night”
I am about to yell out
a song so wild
You will wish Your Tinnitus
could consume You
The Tomato-coloured Couch 3:56pm
I am The Little Girl —
stomach stuffed with Dipped Digestives
& Ginger Snaps
–
I am The Filthy Crow —
crazed & caged above A Cathedral-ceilinged
Living Room
–
I am The Entity Within —
pulsating to life
alerting My Gut, & so Me
to the impossibility
of Reconciliation
The Hawk West Desk Window 3:13pm
Today I saw A Silver Gull
bending & arcing
before the glancing clouds
outside My Kitchen Window
To It I attached no significance
other than It was A Thing
Of Beauty
The Hawk West Desk Window 3:30pm
The Flock of Starlings careening
around Our House like schools of fish
during Eliza’s Arrival
settled on The Wires as She left
adding dimension to A Line
and a song to The Wind
The Hawk Living Room 9:05am
The Sun is white hot
this morning
with Its Silver Blazing
over the water
The Crows are in an uproar
waves of Starlings are matting Our Lawn
The Hawk Kitchen 6:30pm
Scarlet Scarlet Berries
outside My back kitchen door
hit with evening sun
comfort Me as I devour
My Daughter’s Pumpkin Pudding —
My beloved Astro caught A Little Bird
thanks to Me
tossing out a banana peel
along the backyard hedge
even after I asked My Self
If All Those Little Birds
could be gone
The Hawk Deck 8:57am
I can stand on My Deck
in the faint morning sun
to hear the waves more audibly
than usual —
I can hear the chickadees calling
briefly
I am so grateful
(but You know that already)
Joanna Gilman Hyde 