The Hawk Portico 4:08pm
I have sung a song
of birdsong
with the splutter of The Grackle
the warble of The Flicker
the squawk of The Jay —
numerous calls go unidentified
but are backed up
by The Willet, Crow and Gull
All to My Hamlet
by My Favourite Sea
where I live out My Rhythm
with The Little Chickadee
The Hawk Outpost 9:41am
I am standing in The Light
of Our Decorated Star
squinting My Eyes
against Its Brightness
The Glass Door is open
not to let Me out
but to let The Song
of The Morning Birds
Culminate
The Hawk Dining Room NOON
The Liquid Silver Off The Breakers
Before They Break
Holds My Eye
In Mid-sentence
Holds My Heart
In Sublime Suspense
The Hawk Outpost 10:15am
Sun — I guess It’s Sun —
filters through the fog
of a spring morning
I am in My Grey
C2 Rowing Outfit
Hunter is sleeping late
Eliza is on Her Way
to fun
& fame
The Hawk Queen Bed 9:44pm
I have written words
I have painted pictures
I have never sung a song
Has there been enough
of Me?
When will The World stop
to assess My Persona
d’Artiste Extraordinaire
Who has yet to live
to Her Fullest Capacity
under the guise
of —
nothing
The Hawk Kitchen 8:53pm
Today I was instructed
to “Be The Artist You Want To Be”
— I AM —
I see pieces of The Universe
in sink pans
laden with the makings
of Fully Formed Galaxies
so much so that I
am One Of These
I am A Galaxy morphing
into The Rest Of The Universe
& I Love It
The Hawk Kitchen 7:12pm
I wonder if I’ll ever be
an old woman
with a kerchief over My Head
working in a garden
with rubber boots
and black soil
staining My Bony Hands
The Hawk Outpost 5:05pm
Cream-coloured Breakers
Hail Slate-blue Atlantic
Overseen By Sun
The Hawk Outpost 3:10pm
It’s A Nova Scotia Day
— I Can Tell Just By Looking —
The Wind Is More Than Brisk
Waves Are Breaking
Farther Out
Amidst The White Caps
The Air Is Clear
& My Big Black Cat Astro
Wants To Come In
Joanna Gilman Hyde 