The gaggle of kids burst out the door
and flushed the hummingbird from the feeder smack into the glass.
I lifted the small bird from its awkward contortion on the concrete stoop
into the palm of my hand
and breathed again because it lived.
I smoothed the feathers.
The little bird straightened out
blinked its tiny eyes and struggled a bit to breath.
I dribbled some sugar water in my palm since I had read somewhere
that it is possible to starve again in flight.
And I waited there with it
this bird this poet this perfect work of art
whispering and humming because it made me feel fine.
Until suddenly, miraculously it burst from my palm!
Ohhh… look at that! sweetheart look at that! It’s fine its fine!
The kids gathered together close the little girl squealed
up there the bird the bird look!
settling in the cedar
fluttering its wings
and then off! into the Honey Suckle to feed.