In April the hummingbird people
begin to arrive and before they've unpacked
or picked out a campsite
they come to find me
in the field
on the road
they even peer in
at the bathroom window
to let me know:
they've arrived. Time to fish out the feeder
and crank out the sugar water
yesterday.
May is the sound of hummingbirds
throbbing like angry fairies
in mid-air space
facing off against each other
and anyone else
vibrant colors flashing
and a blur of wings.
You found half a tiny while eggshell,
carried it home on your open palm,
laid it in the cup of a purple sparkly geode
on our altar to the spring.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment