The Hawk Dining Room 9:30am
The Silver Line
IS
The Horizon
with illuminated clouds
above
The Sea Is Grey
& I am ready
to put the coffee
on
The Hawk Corner Room 9:30am
The Wash Of Cloud
Radiates My Silver
Along The Ocean Strip
It Moves Across
My Window View
Urging Me My Grip
The Hawk Dining Room 8:00am
“Everything’s going
all to Hell
very fast*”
yet I have
salmon pink clouds
turning to gold
*Dr W Hunter Blair
The Hawk Outpost 9:16am
The Striated Clouds
along The Horizon
streak gently like
a watercolour wash
with a glimmer of light
at the farthest reach
low — off line
The Hawk Outpost 11:08am
I am faced
with a wintry sky
of heavy cloud
The Waves are capped
with white
against the molten grey
of sea
A check of the thermometer
confirms that I am looking
at a configuration
of cold
Hawk Point Road 2:50pm
The Sun Shines
a variegated halo
over the southern tip
of Cape Sable Island
the land I live on
where I confide
in very few
& get My Groceries
on the notes of Joy Division
The Hawk Queen Bed 12:18pm
I see The Deep Purple
of My Prescribed Nap
I hear The Fog Horn
against My Muffled Ear
The Rain is on The Sky Light
My Eyes are strained
against My Note Book
held in The Damp Dimness
of My Sleep-deprived
Afternoon
The Hawk Out Post 4:30pm
Eye walk to The Sky
held inside M(eye) Kitchen
Out Post
never am Eye lost
for answers seen within
layered clouds
of pinkish grey
& peaks of rooftops
gilded in the amber light
of M(eye) Earliest Evening
The Hawk Out Post 1:06pm
I stand with My Morning
Coffee
in The Afternoon — delayed
by a fluky power outage —
I’m still in My Pyjamas
but it doesn’t matter
when I get My Shower
I Am A Free Woman
in love with the strapping band
of Ocean before Me
& My Forever Sky Above
The Hawk Outpost 1:50pm
With The Sublimity of The Morning
with Me making coffee for three
with Eliza baking blueberry muffins
I thought to write of a garden
I was taken to see
by an Acadian Nurse named Emily
Who thought I’d like to walk
across the hospital parking lot
across a curving back street
to a stranger’s yard grown up
with flowers I don’t remember —
but I remember The Walk
& found It, or One like It, noted
in My decades-old medical records:
“Patient enjoyed Her Walk.”
Joanna Gilman Hyde 