The Hawk Deck 8:57am
I can stand on My Deck
in the faint morning sun
to hear the waves more audibly
than usual —
I can hear the chickadees calling
briefly
I am so grateful
(but You know that already)
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
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”
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?
The Hawk West Desk Window 7:40pm
I hear the distant surf
coming in like radio static
whose constant frequency
is broken only intermittently
by the heckling of a gull
or by the infrequent surge
of a vehicle on the road
acting as an incoming wave
The Hawk Queen Bed 7:45pm
When I am old & dying
I want to lie beside an open window
letting in the waves on air
the freshest murmur of the sea
so that I may be carried off
to My Next Plateau
wrapped inside
The Nautilus
of
Sound
The Hawk Deck 8:55am
It’s warming up
to a beautiful day
I Am Ushering In My Life
out on The Deck
I Am Eating My Banana
in a contemplative mode
listening, as always, to North Eastern Surf
dressed in My Robe
of Warm Silver
The Hawk Queen Bed 7:35am
I Hear The Surf Surge Through
My Open Black Window
& One Solitary Fog Horn Echoing
As If It Were Six
The Hawk Portico 6:25pm
When The Waves
At The Back
Have Accompanied Me
Through Midday,
Simmering Down By Evening,
I Come To The Front
To The Hawk Portico
Where I Can Turn My Ear
To A New Batch
Joanna Gilman Hyde 