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)
The Hawk Portico 2:00pm
I have the luxury of gazing
out over the azure blue
of The Atlantic Ocean
of listening to The Gulls and Crows
for Whom I must be some small part
of Their World
as They are such a large part
of Mine
The Hawk Deck 11:10am
The Day On The Deck
Is So Still
I Can Hear The Echo
Of The Crow’s Call
Harsh, Yet Circular
Rising In A Crows’ Chorus
From The Scrub Spruce Nearby
Here Beside Me
Perhaps A Buzz Flies
The Hawk Kitchen 4:47pm
The Sky around here
is so dramatic:
The Heavy Greys
of low-lying Clouds
move across The View
out My Sliding Glass Doors
with The Sun hitting Their Layers
— The Clouds, not The Doors —
while I sit on A Cat’s Ottoman
in My Pretty But Humble
Kitchen
watching
A Gull pass over
illuminated in Silver
The Hawk Portico 5:50pm
I have fallen in love
with the spirit of the sea
encroaching as it does
upon the scrub spruce out front
and behind —
I’ll take them any day —
they house the birds
I thrive upon
they become enmeshed
in the early morning sun
and mist — outlining each branch
as if it were a star
how I love the wild here
the unleashed surf
and even, yes even
the occasional car
or truck
traversing the pavement
of My Southern Boundary
to The Atlantic
Joanna Gilman Hyde 