The hummingbird is rarely seen
At rest; she spends her days in flight,
Achieving speeds more swift than sight.
The Anna's Hummingbird is green
Above and grey below; her head
And throat are iridescent red.
Her tongue is like a hollow straw;
If sipping nectar were a crime,
The hummingbird would do hard time.
To chart her path, you'll have to draw
A line that navigates all over;
She twists and turns, then stops to hover.
In my small soul, there is no room
For cultivating shades of gloom
If by bonne chance a hummingbird
Should dart past me, both bright and blurred.
©2016 Michael Fraley
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