The Speaking Hummingbirds
A hummingbird appeared to me three times today.
An unusual occurrence,
Perhaps decorated with significance.
She paused in the sky,
Reminding me that every second holds prominence.
I hopscotched around dried, dead leaves like lost memories.
Swearing the flowers beside me said something,
What did they say as I passed by?
All the while a crow’s wings sounded like unraveling paper as he whooshed overhead.
My mind painting on you, vibrant violet and gold,
The colors of connection.
My ankle tickled inside my shoe with
Faded wishes of you
Stroking it again, like the most delicate harp.
I am in love with not the memories of you,
I am in love with not the illusion of you,
I am in love with the essence of you.
“It’s all very simple, isn’t it?” asked the little hummingbird
From the woman’s tattooed ankle.
He is a dream-catcher.
Standing by my side in my make-believe world
Changing shapes and kissing me.
I have never seen him naked
But I have felt his ecstasy, I have given myself to him
Every night my intrinsic nature and lifeblood courses with his
The moon our conduit for pure intimacy.
Freeing me, liberating me, releasing me
On the last visit, my happy-hearted feathered friend
Holding a symbol of continuity
She sang to me, of infinity and of eternity.
Oh, how I wait to sing with you in harmony.