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Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen

Friday, August 9, 2013

On Observing a Hummingbird

(AP Photo/Terry Sohl) (2008 AP)
I watch a hummingbird feed
She seems so tiny and frail
She tends perpetual need
Her death assured should she fail

Her beak a threadlike syringe
Her heart drum rolls in her breast
She flits among flowers' fringe
Her wings too nervous to rest

A wisp, she timidly flies
The wind can shift her in flight
Her will, her slightness belies
For few won't fall to her fight

So close to life she must cling
A strength imbues fragile things.