Still, I wait.
Alone, In silence.
Listening for your whispering wings,
hoping I will hear them sing.
At last you motor past,
and briefly pause-
checking to see that you are safe,
rapidly fanning the ambience,
filling the surround with vortices
that suspend you statuesque,
without a fainéant feather.
I know you see me,
those dark eyes opened wide,
Yet, you are unafraid.
Or, maybe hunger rules your reason,
checking flowers of the season.
You hover slightly back,
and then decide
to probe the flower for what’s inside.
Sweet nectar…Elixir of life.
You lap a little as hummingbirds do,
and then you stab another two.
Then, purr closely past my face,
Darting to another place
having had your tiny taste.
Now retire to who knows where.
A bird must have a nest somewhere.
You’ve earned a respite for your wing.
Next time, maybe, will you sing?
Copyright © Ray Dillard