The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 8:58pm
There’s A Landscape Out My Kitchen Window
the prettiest I’ve ever seen
It thrives on sea spray
and the mist each morning
brings
It harbours trees
only half the normal size
so I can see beyond
to the horizon
of My Eyes
The Hawk Outpost 9:05am
Bathed in Silver
in perpetuity
The Sun is warm
& no longer Golden
I stand —
one knee up —
at My Kitchen Outpost
to absorb
the light
off The Ocean
of My Existence
The Hawk Dining Room 8:35am
The Silver is on The Water
again
as Timeless as Ever
greeting Me
on This New Day
of My Husband’s Ready Office
seven minutes
from
The Hawk
&
a five-minute walk
for
The Secretary of Twenty-seven Years
Hawk Point Road 2:50pm
The Sun Shines
a variegated halo
over the southern tip
of Cape Sable Island
the land I live on
where I confide
in very few
& get My Groceries
on the notes of Joy Division
Barrington Passage, NS 7:20pm
The Light from The West
fell upon the low-treed banks
of Cape Island’s Eastern Shore
& I thought:
“There is My Home —
there is The Island which houses
The Hawk
& I will drive to It
with My Husband of a decade-and-a-half
& I will be Illuminated
by Its Western Light
as We meander tonight
through what We call
The Long Way Home“
The Hawk Deck 10:17am
The Waves sing out to Me
while Our Coffee steeps
Hunter is feeding the cats
I will check My Rooftop Views
@ 10:22
–
The Hawk Queen Bed 10:57am
The Surf is to The South
coming through Our Bedroom Windows
while We sit, legs stretched out
drinking second cups of coffee
on Our Hawk Queen Bed
with a solitary cat —
one of six —
resting between Us
The Hawk Corner Room 5:50pm
Olivia sprang from Her Cord
& headed for both neighbours
on one side of the road
& then the other
where She met The Woods
& Her Owner had to take off
in one maroon vehicle
in nebulous pursuit —
She’s not back yet
but I have to get My Supper —
How incongruous that I should hear
The Jays of Valley Cottage
Here on Cape Sable Island
where I am so far removed
from My Growing Up–
or aren’t I still growing?
Here I feel I Have Arrived–
My Destiny has been laid out
on My Grandmother’s Silver Tray
on display atop
My Mother’s Mahogany Drop-leaf Table
Here in My Hawk Living Room
I stepped out on The Deck
into The Early Morning Sun
— with My Clipboard, Pencil
Cup of Coffee — I looked out at The Atlantic
& decided to be A Writer.
–
I determined to fix A Poem:
The Greatest Date — written A Decade Ago —
–
I would fix The Ending mostly —
isn’t it The End
which usually needs attention?
–
& worked away
in That Dazzling Sun, in old sunglasses,
listening to The Breaking Waves, Birds
& My Husband stirring in The Kitchen
feeding The Cats
Joanna Gilman Hyde 