Hummingbird (4)

hummer

Hummingbird (4)

What overwhelms is the fate
of our breath
moving from one mouth

to the other, a form of
denial flickering by

like the hummingbird,
impossible in flight
but moving despite our logic.
The air

claims no intention. It waits,
and waiting, gives itself to us.

The gift we accept is of ourselves.

hummer2

31 thoughts on “Hummingbird (4)

  1. I’ve run out of superlatives, so please accept this one in the spirit intended — OUTRAGEOUS!
    (Just checked my “New Shorter Oxford English Dictionary (OED), and there couldn’t be a more fitting and applicable word than “outrageous.” Among the descriptors in the definition are extravagant, extraordinary, and unrestrained, which fit not only your poem but fit the hummingbird quite nicely as well. So there! 🙂

    Ron

    Liked by 5 people

  2. Robert, love this one. If I may ask and if you care to answer, I sense there is a finding of peace here. Although poetry is beautiful in ways it speaks to us individually, was that your sense in this poem?

    Liked by 3 people

  3. Hummingbirds make me feel flighty and jittery. And that’s the truth. My psychologist said that was normal and then shared some hummingbird soup with me. Tasted like pheasant or mourning dove — couldn’t decide which. There wasn’t enough for seconds. Someone should cross-breed them with condors to get more meat out of one bird.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Last week, my daughter and I were in Shenandoah National Park. In the middle of the road, hovering about three feet above the ground, was a humming bird. I couldn’t see the color of its feathers; its silhouette was like a small winged tear drop. Reading this poem was like reading a beautiful memory that someone else wrote. Thank you.

    Liked by 1 person

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