The Hawk Deck 10:05am
There may be only so much
I can write about birds
bird life & song
the lull of the waves
has made Me strong
but I must wait
for the outcome
of a medical concern
involving My Children’s Grandfather
The Hawk West Desk Window 2:11pm
I just put a couple of month-and-a-half old
English Muffins
torn up, out for The Gulls
Who squawked & swooped upon the feed
immediately
getting bulges in Their Gullets
while I got a pang
of wishing I had more —
Oh! I do!
The Remainder of a loaf of Newfoundland Bread
which I dumped in the wet grass
but for some reason didn’t tear up the over-sized slices
& The Gulls had to compete with The Crows
Who could fly away with a whole piece
and not drop it
The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:00pm
I perceived The Little Yellow Bird again
in The Scraggly Apple
& He Tweeted — what did He Tweet to Me
before My Daughter called to ask
if I could find Her Horse Binder
(She’s trying to sell Her Horse)
Did That Little Yellow Bird Tell Me
He’s sick of all this New Age Shit
about feebleness conquering strength
about Our New Era
when “God” is (finally?) questioned
when Humanity is being examined
when The Global Financial Picture is a blur
— but still no answers —
nothing concrete
so came The Little Bird Tweet
The Hawk Deck 2:50pm
There is something like magic
in the stillness here
with only The Birds
— even They have settled —
the breeze is lulling
I cannot even hear the surf
The Hawk Deck 1:00pm
The Yellow Bird has visited again —
He has not chirped of God
but of His Friend
in another tree
The Hawk Deck 11:30am
I Am God THE OBSERVER
I Am God THE LISTENER
I Am A Human Being
In Love With The Land
Where She Lives
The Hawk Deck 9:55am
I have The Solace
of a Day In June
cool, but garbed in My Grey Bathrobe
I am ready for a cup of tea
& more Bird Song
The Hawk Deck 11:25pm
I Am God
And From God
I Am Not Separate
From The Tiny Wing-ed Bug
On My White Sleeve
The Tomato-coloured Couch 12:15pm
This Morning My Daughter reported waking
to the song of multitudinous bird-life
the dehumidifier tray was full
but She had no hot water
in The Atlantic House —
My First Marital Home
with Eliza’s Father
Who picked the colours
& built an addition
complete with screened-in porch
off Our New Bedroom
I sat out there in the shelter of the screens
in My Post-Mother’s-Death Depression
& wondered, along with everyone else,
why I was not happy
The Hawk Portico 6:00pm
In the stillness of this evening
I have a call for The Hawk:
The Plaintive Cooing of The Mourning Dove
sounding clean & close above the others
so still am I in My Chair
I hear not even surf
but the buzz of a fly
& the sucking surge of The Grackle
Joanna Gilman Hyde 