I thought the hummers would careen
up and down, like butterflies
at the whim of the August breeze
flying drunkenly, precariously,
barely airborne, but no
When he came, he was self-possessed,
in total control
and I wonder if he saw me
sitting still, expectant
watching the empty sky.
He appeared through time
gliding across the open air
of my backyard, a minuscule wraith
needing to feed--that's where I had him
holding my breath,
focusing on the blur of tiny wings
a clockwork bird moving, like light,
across the spine of heaven.
Perhaps he was there all along
waiting for me to create space
oblivious of the meaning
I placed on his slight presence
that whisper of life,
sipping nectar like an ancient god
perching on hair-thin branches
invisible, persistent, aloof
a tiny hawk, a tiny window
with ruby curtains
and a valence of silk