Friday, August 19, 2011

sundown after storm


my hummingbird
wondrously made

shape of
smooth almond, cleansed in spit
feathers blown on

sleek coat of down
glitters as you fly
from flower to flower

I took aim at a board, once--
the dart flew crooked
from my hand
and missed

but you, hummingbird, move so swift
as if the very thought of flight
shoots you true

you say,
"no, you are wrong--
my grace is an illusion"

this hydraulic sinewed heart
cannot allow
one millisecond of failure

my entire being
beats here in my chest

illusion, illusion--
it is sheer courage
that hovers me
in the air's embrace

gambling with my life
that one more taste of sweetness
will keep me
from falling

Saturday, August 06, 2011

swallowtail hanging on


last year
all my flowers
bloomed too late for
the butterflies

in fall
I mowed the
butterfly bushes
to the ground

erasing the stems
over the roots
hesitating in winter

this year
the butterflies and flowers
dance together

not that I asked
but love made a wind
of its own