The Hawk West Desk Window 8:25pm
The Sun Is Silver
Beaming Out From A Ridge Of Cloud
Lining The Sky With One
Elongated Ray
Before It Sets
Into The Spray Of Islands
Beneath
The Hawk Deck 12:42pm
The Gull’s Raucous Cry
is every sound of Salt Air
rising above Its neighbours’
murmurings
It crowns the calls
of all other birds
& rings in the start
of Summer
The Hawk Deck 3:00pm
I Have Seen The Perfect
Nautilus
Within My Universal Vision
— the sink It was —
Showing Me The Perfect
Form Of Reproduction
& Through My Chaos
of hand-washing
I Diffused The Spiral
Only To Let It
Re-set
in ever-smaller
smatterings
The Hawk Deck 8:30pm
Will The Low Cooing
Of The Mourning Dove
Be The Sound Of The Hawk
When I Leave?
Or Will It Be The Waves
I’ll Hear As I Head Out
Into The Night Of My Future
Seeking Only
To Find
The Repetitions?
The Tomato-coloured Couch 3:38pm
A Black-headed Gull
blown in from the storm
circled over Me
as I threw
bits of bread
on the newly cut lawn
He landed beside Me
for probably the first
square meal
He’s had since
He was carried to Us
Joanna Gilman Hyde 