The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 7:47am
The Sun is somewhere
behind the fog
Oh I see It!
White Orb
halo-ed by the mist
promising
a clearing
a day for laundry?
The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 7:36am
The Sun has risen
much further North
than I expected
& I am to execute
a sculpture of Hunter’s closest friend
whose eyes are up & open
to the surprise of his
final moment
The Hawk Kitchen Outpost 9:38am
EYE See The Mighty Silver
beaming off the water’s edge
I feel the warmth of Our Sun
across My Morning Face —
I see the spheres of illumination
through My Blinking Lash
I hear the coffee water boiling
calling for A Second Steep
The Hawk Outpost 9:41am
I am standing in The Light
of Our Decorated Star
squinting My Eyes
against Its Brightness
The Glass Door is open
not to let Me out
but to let The Song
of The Morning Birds
Culminate
The Hawk Kitchen 6:57pm
From My Kitchen Glass Doors
I can consume The Western Light
scattered across The Grass
illuminating The Scraggly Apple
Scrub Spruce beyond
out to The Line of Blue Atlantic
trimmed with A Streak
of Warm Grey Cloud
caught
by The Golden Glow
and set before Me
on My Plate
The Hawk Dining Room 8:20am
There’s no orb of sun to be seen
only a pool of liquid light
out past the neighbour’s roof line
now when I blink
I see a streak of lime-gold
against the black
of My Inner Eye
Joanna Gilman Hyde 