The Hawk Kitchen 7:50pm
I have drunk My First Beverage
W–A–T–E–R
from My Chalice Divine
standing before My Dramatic Sky
of heavy mauve cloud
& Illuminated Gull
reaching around
to the sea-view
The Tomato-coloured Couch 4:38pm
I slept ’till noon
to make up for nightly sleep-deprivation
& got out of bed @ 2:00 this afternoon
to make up for a wasted day
of gathering together the garbage
for garbage day tomorrow
I got showered and dressed
to be presentable for Eliza’s boyfriend
& sat on the portico
to talk on the phone
to an artist friend near Chicago
when above My Front Yard
flew The Graceful Long-legged Heron
slowly traversing the air
above My House
& the heaviness of bed-lying
was long gone
The Hawk Living Room 7:30pm
I ate My Potato Salad
& drank a beer
here by the open Living Room Window
at the edge of The Tomato-coloured Couch
but that was at the edge of The Galaxy
where stars burst & die
I would lie My Head on a blanket
& listen to the aftershocks
wafting through
on the surge
of ocean mist
& bird call
The Hawk Queen Bed 8:57pm
Yesterday on The Trail
in Barrington Bay
I heard The Willets
The Sound of Childhood
in Jordan Bay
My Grandfather wrote
about The Willet’s song
in Anchorage Northeast:
“My own ear has seldom caught “Willet”
in the famous and far-piercing call.
To me it is pilly-will-wee,
with the accent on the last syllable,
or pill-wee-wee, with the accent
on the second,
in either case repeated over and over
and virtually always in flight.
It is a high, hurrying, questioning cry,
urgent of something I can only imagine,
a glad sound on the bird’s coursings of the shore,
a call of fulfillment(sic)
and the June-morning glory
of being alive and a-wing.”
Howard Talbot Walden 2nd
Anchorage Northeast p.189
The Tomato-coloured Couch 2:28pm
Numerous Little Black Birds
of an unknown variety
spun Themselves into a bulbous school
& flew around behind
with My Head in A Whirl
to see Them light
straight-lined on a wire
The Hawk Corner Room 11:34am
Today I Saw The Thinnest Line of Birds
Flying North
I Watched Them ‘Till They Vanished
And Lateral Clouds With Single Gulls
Took Over
I stand in sublimity
observing The November Sun
setting Its Light
against The Panorama of Spruce
out My Back Kitchen Door —
Subtle Clouds are rippled
like beach sand
& The Crows have yet
to finish My Offering
of old Shepherd’s Pie
Cami finally has on Her Collar
with A Bell
I drink My Morning Coffee
with Bird Hunting Gunfire
off The Cape
The Hawk Red Deck Chair 12:15pm
Oh My God! — That’s My Mother
Telling Me To Write This Poem
— It’s The Chickadees
flitting around The Scraggly Apple
telling Me to write down
what I did one Christmas
in Cooper Union —
I asked My Unmarried Economics Teacher
to be a Christmas Present
for My Mother
& He said Yes!
so I wrote Mom a note
for Christmas Morning
that a Man was coming to visit
He came to Christmas Dinner
in Valley Cottage
— My Grandfather was there too —
now Pappy, The Teacher, My Mother, My Brother
are all dead
but The Chickadee-dee-dees
are alive
& chirping
The Hawk Kitchen 7:15pm
She was a beautiful bird —
I was lucky to be standing there
on The Deck
She landed near Me
in The Scraggly Apple
dove-like
with greyish wings
& peachy breast
Our Eyes Met
Her Friends Came
& took Her away
Joanna Gilman Hyde 