Joanna Gilman Hyde

"Good Morning, World!"

Tag: nature

FOR MARY ELLEN

The Hawk Portico 2:22pm

The waves speak to Me

not as a neighbour would

but as a mother might:

“Shhh, Joge, Shhh

Everything Will Be Al-right “

The birds speak to Me

of the waves beyond

as if the chirps & calls

& singular silver notes

are accent marks

to the surging shoreline

The fog speaks to Me

through the echo of its horn

semi-distant

complimenting

the readied speech

of melodic birds

& the steady rush

of tide

The insects speak to Me

landing on My Pages

as if in observation

of My finalizing penmanship

telling Me to go ahead

“Soak it all in and

let it all out”

WHAT IS BEING HEARD

The West Desk Window 10:30pm

What is being heard

in the primordial surf

swooshing its way through

My Bedroom Window —

is it the surge I heard when My Father’s Sperm

rushed to make Me

when My Mother’s Egg

swelled and grew

to the whoosh of Her Womb

Hers and Mine?

QUESTION

The Hawk Corner Room 7:55pm

Are We the only planet

aligned between a sun

and a moon

in perfect symmetry

to house

Our Selves?

PLACES I HAVE KNOWN

The Hawk Deck 11:15am

The Birds of My Childhood —

I have Them All Here:

The Back Woods Jay Squawk

of Valley Cottage

The Low Brush Cheep

of The Chick-a-dee-dee-dee

The Harsh Cawing of The Morning Crow

on McNutt’s Island

The Hearkening Bleat

of The Summer Willet

from My Old Jordan Bay

These places I will never see again

but They Call to Me Still

THE NIGHT OF THE FULL MOON

The Hawk West Desk Window 9:42

The Moon lived with Me

for a short while

from The Time Of My Conception

to The Time Of My Death

It stood behind Me

as A Halo Of Silver

and I lived with My Shadow

where ever I went

SILVER POEM

The Hawk Portico 4:15pm

Silver is not a barbaric relic

as Gold has been called

Silver as a standard of measurement

is tried & true

I may be worth millions

in a very short time

as I have bought into

The Sterling Which Fell On My Head

at a specific date

one sunny afternoon

over twenty years ago

& Which has been incubating

ever since

MOON POEM

The Hawk Dining Room 7:28pm

The Moon rose at supper

like a humanoid zygote

passing first through a layer of peach —

as the peach got pinker and pinker

The Moon got higher and higher —

Its fullness minus a day

glowed Its luminous face

to the solid bank of ocean

and to The Earthlings at Their Window

MY SANCTUARY

The Hawk Deck 9:03am

This has been The Place

of My Full Recovery

from My Mother’s Death

of more than Twenty Years

This is The Place of My Happiness and Joy

with Molten Silver on The Sea

Bird Life, Cat Life

My Life and My Husband’s

The Hawk Living Room Window 4:43pm

My Serenity Level

cannot be measured

there is no equipment

like The Blood Sugar Thing

there is only The Sun

streaming in over Me

as I sit on the end

of The Tomato-coloured Couch

with The Window open

airing in The Waves

from The Southern Tip

of The Hawk

FLIRTATION

The Hawk Kitchen 8:45am

How can I be depressed, even slightly

in My Beautiful Kitchen

with The Sun beaming in

& My Husband staying home from work

to be with Me?

9:40am

I have on My Thick Grey Robe

for comfort when I’m down

drinking a cup of tea

eking out the last of The Sun

The Hawk Portico 5:05pm

Low Blood Sugar or No Blood Sugar

(something’s wrong with the reader)

I’m in a mini depression

saved only by getting My Hair done

& sitting out here

on The Portico

in mild fall sun

the purging of waves

& the double squawk of a Jay

repeated on His Wire

THE OUTING

The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:42pm

20 years ago during My First Depression

I departed from The Pink Bedspread

of The Yarmouth Psychiatric Unit

to take some advantage

of an offered outing

in a hospital bus

to venture across

a high-grass board-walk

to nowhere

only to return to My Bedspread

which may well have been

Chrysanthemum Gold