The Hawk Deck 11:35am
If I hear The Waves
Really Hear
They say, “It’s OK
It’s OK”
–
If I see The Ocean
Really See
It shows Me
Its Serenity
–
If I feel The Day
Really Feel
It tells Me
You Are Here
Really Here
& You Love It
The West Desk Window 11:24am
I am luxuriating in The Full Viewing
of My Beautiful Bird of Paradise
I watch Him from My Vehicle
at the side of Hawk Point Road
My Neck craned to My Left
I gaze across Tidal Flats
at The Break in The Dunes
where Storm Waves wash in
small fry
for My Beautiful Long-legged, Long-necked Friend
Who wades so prominently
through One Grand Pool
to fish at Four Glorious Intervals
before I allow My Self
to finish driving home
to fix Lunch
He steamed out 24 hours
not planning on coming back
when He cut the engine
& sat astern
testing the water:
“It was real to Me
I witnessed It
& same time I’m puzzled by It
I don’t see any reason
I shouldn’t tell It —
Some People may see a UFO
maybe They did
I thought about painting It
It’s so well embedded in My Mind
They don’t have to look like a seagull —
They weren’t
They weren’t a sea hag
They were sort of angelic like
down on the outside —
similar to a glow
20 feet away
2 on top 1 on the bottom
sea hags don’t hover
They were trying to send Me a Message
delicate hair, like angel hair
Something I can’t explain
but It happened”
The Hawk Deck 11:35pm
Oh Fly, why do You light
on My Knee?
Why do You stay awhile —
what makes You go?
Do You know something
I don’t?
–
Oh Fly, why do You light
on My Sleeve
looking at Me
while You wash Your Arms?
Are You as curious
as I am?
What makes You leave?
Are You coming back?
The Hawk Deck 8:45pm
duck hunting season is open
this sparkling morning — reverberating
gun fire crashing My Waves
— I’m sick for the flocks
trying to fly south
in order to survive
the winter
The Hawk Deck 10:00am
I’m a real Lady of Leisure:
I’ve just put another coat
of Silver on My Nails
in My Pale Sun Hat
& Nude Night Gown —
The Laundry’s on The Line
& I’m waiting for a phone call
which may or may not
change My Day
The Hawk Deck 6:50pm
I’d like to paint a picture
of The Skyscape before Me
without the interruption of a single bug:
The Clouds are blue & gold
moving to The South
majestic, cumulus
layered above My Ocean
highlighted by The Sun
setting to The West–
here comes one mosquito
The Northerly Sound
has moved to North East
as I step out
on My Deck
I feel like writing
The Sky, laden with cloud
is dramatic
The Fog has gone
off shore
Oh — is that Rain?
Joanna Gilman Hyde 