The Hawk Outpost 10:25am
The Birds on the wire
know not
the chaos to come
in human terms
Let Nature be spelled
& All Birds
sanctified
The Hawk Outpost 10:15am
I have risen to The Gleam Of Silver
aeons in the making
having set Its High
& clung to It
I will witness The World’s
turn-around
from the light of gold
to The Shower Of Silver —
from the day of the yellow metal
to The Night of The White
The Hawk Queen Bed 11:11am
While Our Second Pot of Coffee
steeped
an amorphous flock of Starlings
(at least I assume They were Starlings)
crowded out the sky to the south
& landed on several high wires
matting there
until They took off
scattered
to the west
leaving the wires swaying
in Their rush
leaving Me to pour The Coffee
The Hawk Queen Bed 8:08pm
Big News among The Crows
today, heralded by several Jays
as I looked to The Grey Ocean
& Sky — The US Mint
sold out Its Silver Eagles
while A Great Blue Heron flew
past My Kitchen Outpost
The Hawk Window Seat 4:05pm
What Motivates The Bird
To Fly?
Is It Just That He
Has Wings?
Or Is It The Longing
For Companionship
That Keeps Him
In His School
Aloft?
The Hawk Portico NOON
I am dressed to paint
My Killer Lines
of Dagger Points
in My Black Lace Bra
& Black Jesus Underwear
I hear The Chickadee’s
approval
before I begin
I just have to draw
The Silver Blades
out
The Hawk Deck 8:45am
I’ve caught the liquid sun
to the call of The Chickadee
I see iridescent blue now
when I close My Eyes
& look again
The Hawk Portico 5:07pm
How does The Jay
call Me so, back
into the the early reaches
of My Childhood?
–
Is that why We have
distinctive bird song
to harken back
to parts We shan’t
forget?
The Hawk Deck 11:20am
The Plumage of Clouds
rides high overhead
& I become lost
in The World
of Flying Gulls
Buzzing Flies
& The Deep Recess
of Blue
The Hawk Portico 5:47pm
I wonder what happened
to The Clothes I left in Atlantic
when I left My Husband
for Dr Blair —
how long did They stay
in the closet Peter built
— My Shoes —
— I can’t remember
what shoes —
did He take Them
to The Salvation Army?
— but Here —
here on The Hawk
where silence greets Me
from My Red Deck Chair
where I can hear a bird fly
or a neighbour’s flag flap
and the surf, always the surf
— Here I needn’t ask —
Joanna Gilman Hyde 