“I Heard A Bird Fly,”
declared an astonished visitor
to My Mother’s Island House
when I was eleven years old.
–
July 23rd 2012
I Live In The Land of Spirituality–
if I lie in My Bed
on the verge of depression
I am in Error
for I am eternally, rightfully happy
on My Deck or Portico
with Hunter and Eliza and The Cats
and The Birds.
The Jays of Valley Cottage
mix with The Crows of Nova Scotia
I could hear Them
before writing
but now that My Book is out
open on My Lap
I hear the swooshing of The Hedge
& guess The Next Bird To Be–
–I have no guess–
–I’m waiting to hear–
a car pulls into a driveway
a neighbour tinkers in His Shed
so I move to The South of The House
–to The Portico–
where Those Waves are a woosh
with Gulls more audible
& now too, a Jay
Today I Received
A Friend from Shelburne
Whose Voice of God
Directed Her
To Come See Me
She Is Back In My Life
Complete With God
Within Her — I Trust Her
She Is My New Friend
9:38
I See The Crescent Moon
tonight, setting
Outside My West Desk Window
9:40
I Have Never Watched The Crescent Set
For Eliza’s First Camping Trip
with A Boy
She & He bought A Six-man Tent
A Pink Fishing Rod
They rigged & set minnow traps
out of plastic pop bottles
& just drove out Our Driveway
in The Boy’s Big Black Truck
to get last-minute groceries
–
Eliza’s Made Reservations for Their Grounds–
Camp Fires are Regulated
The Fire Index is High
A Canadian Maple Leaf
is A Star
RED STAR
undulating
Above The Blue Horizon
Sitting on My Deck
In My Red Deck Chair
I Have The Sheets on The Line
& The World in My Lap
I Can Hear The Surf
& See The Blue Horizon
Hazed Over
Like My Open Globe
Today is Hot for Nova Scotia
–I know It and You know It–
I’m not making more of It
when a humid trip to get the mail
presents The Ethereal Delight:
A Pair of American Gold Finches
splashing, dipping & shaking off
Together in a roadside puddle
Here I sit to watch
The Vertical Drizzle
outside the confines of The Portico
with The Waves
through The Rain
to watch A Cat
return
before My Naturally Bleach-Blond Daughter
emerges to ask
why I’m sitting in the rain
& If Her Perfect Make Up
is
OK
for
Poker
I Hear My Waves
Through The Trees
My Fog Has Settled In
In My Chair
I Sit & See
My Years Have Hardly Been
The Big Bang Theory
is One Big Sneeze
— if It ever happened —
& here We are
looking for One Big Tissue
& chanting
“God Bless You!”
Joanna Gilman Hyde 