The Hawk Kitchen 6:30pm
Scarlet Scarlet Berries
outside My back kitchen door
hit with evening sun
comfort Me as I devour
My Daughter’s Pumpkin Pudding —
My beloved Astro caught A Little Bird
thanks to Me
tossing out a banana peel
along the backyard hedge
even after I asked My Self
If All Those Little Birds
could be gone
The Hawk West Desk Window 10:44am
I pulled up The Evening Blind
on Today’s Morning
on A Big White Truck
passing Our Living Room Window
showing Me I am On Track
I will not lie in bed
I will row on My Rowing Machine
take A Shower
and make Eggplant Parmesan
The Hawk Portico 3:15pm
I can hear The Waves
in one direction
& watch Them in another
The Fog Clouds dissipate
underneath a patterned sky
& I am momentarily in The sun
The Hawk Queen Bed 10:18am
I dove into a Floridian Pool
against a backdrop
of pool-side haze
& old people
In the middle somewhere
I held an infantile hand
in My Left
& used it, shamelessly
to masturbate
successfully
The Hawk Queen Bed 12:10am
I can hear The Open Air
breathing through Our Bathroom Window
— Its off The Bedroom —
I can go to sleep
dreaming of The Waves
& My established friendship
with The Night
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 Corner Room 6:52pm
We have A Picture Window in Our House
on The East Side upstairs
overlooking The Atlantic by a 180 degree expanse
across ocean, light houses and sky —
without This Opening I would be cut off
from Those Eastern pinks of Sun
setting behind Me
The Hawk Portico 2:00pm
I have the luxury of gazing
out over the azure blue
of The Atlantic Ocean
of listening to The Gulls and Crows
for Whom I must be some small part
of Their World
as They are such a large part
of Mine
The Tomato-coloured Couch 2:22pm
On My Way To The Mail Box
I Passed A Roadside Spread Of Asters
Pale Lavender Star-shapes Against The Golden Grass
And Auburn Leaves Of Fern — There Was No Mail
But As You Can Guess
That Hardly Matters
Joanna Gilman Hyde 