The Hummingbird

Trudging home in mist rain, the streets are colorless, a reflection of the clouds that sit on rooftops. The rain seeps through my clothes and leaves me just as cold and damp on the outside as i feel. Through rain mottled lenses i catch the barest glimpse of it flashing into sight and then gone. I turn and there it is again, a glittering jewel cast upon a sky of grey. A hummingbird, in the heart of winter. I stare in awe, at the tiny thing made of emeralds and rubies, it hovers in the air, still for a moment, even the rain seemed to hold its breath. The spell breaks and the little bird with its chest aflame and wings made of shattered light is gone. Leaving me standing, dumbfounded on the side of the road in the rain.