The Hawk Deck
11:00 am
Eye am dressed in solid grey
& un-ironed white linen
sitting on The Deck, quiet
My Daughter, visiting from College
has just fed Gully
some old rice cakes
& The Crows are subdued
in the trifling fog
The Hawk Portico 10:34am
I just watched A Fly
sitting on My White Pyjama Shirt
rub His Back Legs together
& then extend His Back Right Leg
up & over the top of His Right Wing
presumably to clean It
twice
The Hawk Portico 9:11pm
I Am The Call
Of The Black Crow
Outside My Kitchen Deck
Insistent, Declarative
Hungry For Any Response
In The Awakening Distance
Of Our Waiting World
The Hawk Deck 4:11pm
If My Book were near Me
would I write?
Yes, I’ll go get It
& bring It outside
I thought, earlier
to write a poem titled
“What Is Depression?”
but all I could come up with
is It’s The Opposite
of what My Life is now —
One of fulfilment, contentment
& Big Ideas
to ground The Rest of The World
into Balance
The Hawk West Desk Window 11:03am
I’ll never tire
of picking up Galaxies
of dust & cat hair
inside My House
My Right Hand is The Perfect Tool
& The Waste Basket
The Perfect Receptacle
The Hawk West Desk Window 9:11am
My God is not The God
of honey & sunshine
butterflies & beetles —
My God is The God
of 9/11
Hard-hitting & Hard-core
The God of The Dark
through Which railing against
We find Our Heart-felt
Heart-beating Meaning
of Life
The Hawk Kitchen 4:53pm
From My Kitchen Window
I Can See Clearly
The Blue Horizon
Straight & Firm
Like A Swath Of Fortification
Substantiating My Existence
While Hunter Feeds The Cats
Joanna Gilman Hyde 