CORPOREAL MORNING
The Hawk Deck 8:56am
The foggy dew
is still on the scrub spruce
in hues of grey and green
the waves are close
somatic
& I am fully here
ready to take in
The Day
The Hawk Deck 8:56am
The foggy dew
is still on the scrub spruce
in hues of grey and green
the waves are close
somatic
& I am fully here
ready to take in
The Day
The Hawk Deck 1:22pm
This morning I took a walk
along The Barrington Bay Trail
on the far extension I passed
A Boy and His Father/Uncle
The Boy strode up to Me
asking if there is a difference between
plum sauce and sweet n’ sour —
I replied, “Not much — why
are You asking about sauces
so early in the morning?”
The Uncle/Father explained:
“He’s just been to McDonald’s”
The Hawk Deck 11:35am
I am not beyond writing
how good I feel
sitting in the sun
in the privacy of My Deck
I look to the ocean
for inspiration
& find all I need
within The Self I am today
— A Supreme Self
basking in the knowledge
of all things
coming to good
Ultimately
The Hawk Deck 10:06am
I Am Guarding My Ocean
I Am Watching For Birds
To Record Their Song
Accompanying Each Moment
Of Scenic Bliss
A Dog Barks, A Neighbour Calls
To Another
While I Sit
In My Red Deck Chair
Taking Stock
The Hawk Deck 9:17am
The Air Has Cleared Here
The Ocean Dazzles My Brain
I Am Up For The Morning
In What Feels Like Early Fall
I Am Leaving Behind
Every Past Anxiety
Looking Forward To The New Aerial View
Of This Planet
Upon Which
I Thankfully Reside
The Hawk Deck 7:30pm
Nothing will unhinge My Happiness
here —
no dying or dead parents
no deranged brother
no cloak of depression
only My Black Cat Astro
— if He were to die
I would be heart-broken:
My Happiness mauled to pieces
The Hawk West Desk Window 8:11pm
I am the eleven-year-old school girl
trudging up Mountainview Avenue
deliberately crossing through woods
in front of My House
rather than take the paved drive way
–
I am a Tower of Poetic License
I write My Life as It comes to Me
in grades of Sterling Silver
in shades of reconciliation
between black & white
I am Alive
& I know it
even in My Seep
The Hawk Portico 4:08pm
How many dead souls
can be attached to one
Butterfly?
No one near to Me has died
recently
yet there before My Stoop
flitted One for the taking
like The Birds
Who go unadorned
with such heraldry
The Hawk Portico 2:15pm
It’s My Job
to write about The Sinuosity
of My Neighbour’s Flag
momentarily out straight
It undulates in what wind
We have —
hypnotic in Its Red Swaths
Its Red Maple Leaf luffing
indelibly against The Forever
Blue Sea