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about hummingbirds and night wind

M. E. Csamer


small winged creature
moving
at the speed of desire:    that much wanting
and so little flesh to hold it.

he comes at the beckoning
of flowers planted to attract his mystery
consolidation of heat & power               a heart
unleashed in air.

how would he sleep?
and yet                     last night
            in the wind
somewhere       he was nesting

waiting to appear       embroider a day
from the same cloth: that wind
last night            removing all tiresome bugs

leaving only       fireflies in the grass       miniscule green storms

beside my fingers          or maybe spears
the stars threw down.


M.E. Csamer's works copyright © to the author.


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