The Tomato-coloured Couch 3:24pm
I Grace Time
with a glance at My Watch
Cell Phone
Computer
Dashboard (Car)
Microwave
Slow Cooker
and if I see
10:22
2:22
9:11
I Am Graced
The Hawk Queen Bed 9:38pm
If I Could Paint A Sky
With Words —
Can I Reach The Ear
With Sounds —
Sounds Of Such Value To Me
I Want To Encapsulate
Them —
The Story Of Our Ocean
With No Beginning
And No End —
The Sweetness Of My Peepers
So Brief?
The Hawk Outpost 8:20pm
The Sky To The North
Is A Palette
Of Textured Greys
Positioned Laterally
Over Pale Blue
As If
Stroked
Against The Atmosphere
By A Hand-held Stippling Brush
With Finger-tipped
Precision
Barrington Passage, NS 7:45pm
What Rings True Above
The Din Of Busy Traffic?
Truth Behind Bird Song
The Hawk Window Seat 2:22pm
When Next I Saw
The Blue Jay
I Saw That It Was He
Sitting High Upon A Wire
Readying For Flight
To A Far Off Place
Where He Would Stay
With Me
Forever
The Tomato-coloured Couch 7:15pm
Sun Across The Lawn
Like An Ember In Evening
A Robin’s Breast Glows
The Hawk West Desk Window 5:30pm
If I could master music
what would I play
of the serenading line of dunes
along The Hawk Cape
silhouetted against
a strip of Ocean Silver —
what would I sing?
The Tomato-coloured Couch 5:32pm
Let Me Find My Silver Pen
To Write On Your Forehead
As You Lie Back
With Your Eyes Closed —
Let Me Write On You —
Above All
I Love You —
You’re Not Going To Die
You Will Have Your Fill Of Dreams
Happy And Bad, Terrible Even —
But You Must Go Through
The Terror
And Comfort
Of The Night
In Order To Wake —
Go To Sleep My Precious World —
Let Me Rock You To Sleep
Let Me Draw My Label
My Signature
On Your Forehead —
Let Me Find My Red Felt Pen
My Permanent Marker
To Draw Upon You
Above Your Eyes
A Fleshy Heart
Filled In With Red
Out-lined By Black
The Tomato-coloured Couch 4:15pm
The Message I received
from My Divine Hallucination
of the head of The Beautiful Dark Haired Woman
on My Right Shoulder
Who said, “You Know The Meaning Of Life
And So You Are A Star —
so go to sleep”
may have been, now, telling
The Whole World
to go to sleep —
perhaps it is not awakening
We need —
it is Sleeping and Dreaming
celebrating The Night
Our Darkness
to find Our True Selves
The Hawk Out Post 12:29pm
In The Little Wood
behind Our House
The Deer hide
and come out every evening
to feed upon the neighbour’s grain
and decorate Our Lawn with Their Trottings
returning to Their Wood
They know so well
as I know only by Its distant façade:
under clouds edged in darker grey
a bank of scrub spruce
concealing creatures
Who may never know
The Sky
Joanna Gilman Hyde 