Monday, July 4, 2011

Hummingbird




Hark, the stir of wings.

Holding on to air
is the quickening sound;
don't dare interrupt the flow;
make quiet your watch, not caught.

The dignity of a spear
assaults the flowing tresses
bunched and pressed there;
leaning into the drifting breeze,
lithe with zip-twirl,
the road an airway;
it supped at bird-stop,
filled-up with sweetest fuel,
then stopped before my wonder-face
and dared the air between us.

2 comments:

  1. Martie, those last two lines stopped me! it's lovely!

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  2. mrnoah16@hotmail.comJuly 4, 2011 at 2:25 PM

    MOST DELIGHTFUL DESCRIPTORS OF MY LITTLE FRIENDS, THAT I REFERR TO AS "THE LITTLE BUGGERS, WHO DANCE OUTSIDE MY WINDOW, AND BESIDE MY PORCH! I AM REQUIRED TO BE DILIGENT IN MY ADMINISTERING SWEET NECTAR. THE FLOCK GROWS WITH NEW FLEDGLINGS ALMOST CONTINUALLY, THIS YEAR! HOW HONORED I AM TO HAVE THEM FINDING MY YARD A PLACE OF COMFORT!

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