The Hawk West Desk Window 7:12pm
I painted once
a watercolour sunset
& wrote on the back
“This could be a cover
for The New Yorker”
I gave it to My First Husband
Who put it in His Parents’ attic
Yet tonight I saw My Painting
in real life
out My West Desk Window
in the sky beyond The Cape
edged below by the silhouetted dunes
bathed above by the astonishing pink
I had tried to capture
The Hawk Dining Room 3:53pm
I rest My Chin
in The Child’s Posture
between My Fists
I contemplate The Greyness
of My Ocean
It’s All Mine
nobody
can steal It
away
I
will
hold
It
to
Me
within My Veins
within My Flesh
within My Insides
I Am The Salt
I Am The Water
I Am Here
in The Child’s Stance
The Hawk Portico 4:22pm
On one of these rare days
in early Fall
so still
I’ve decided to stay
on The Hawk
instead of driving to Barrington
for a walk
on The Trail
while Hunter rows —
I cannot miss
this outdoor treat
of sitting in My Red Deck Chair
with My Front Door open
to The Sounds of My Daughter
readying in the kitchen
for tonight’s drive
back to
College
The Hawk Deck 11:22am
Take away The Question
what do You have
That Which Is
all around You
in front of Your Blazing Eyes
at the touch of Your Sticky Fingers
at the smell of Your Pristine Nose
at the lure of Your Thankful Ears
at the taste of Your Capable Tongue
The Meaning is in Your Voice
in Your Gesture
in Your Mind
The Hawk Deck 10:40am
I’m a wanna-be Spiritual Leader
I wanna teach Humanity
to love Itself
How corny is that?
Here on My Deck I love
in The Light Of Morning
I wanna cry out
“Love Your Selves!”
The heck with God —
We bumbling Humans
are where It’s At
Look what We can make
of Our Selves
Wanna Bet?
The Hawk Kitchen 7:13pm
There’s something so satisfying
about letting A Fly out
a sliding glass door —
It’s as if all Your Problems
go along with It
& You can stand back
& look at The Sky
in Its sunset-hued pink
& think There Is No Better
Way
The Hawk West Desk Window 8:38pm
Fall is finished for Me now
as soon as I saw
Its leaves along the grounds
of My Husband’s Office
–
No other flurry of fall
will strike Me the same
as This Summer’s Turning
Its brash array
scattered before The Edifice
of My Husband’s Career
Fifty Falls in the making
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 