A Long Time Ago
I dreamed of hummingbirds
and a field of flowers
painting the yard behind my house
Purple and pink and white
But when I woke, the ground still clung to winter
and there were no hummingbirds
drifting through naked branches
If I close my eyes I see their wings,
a blur of busy motion, lost between worlds,
hovering on threads of time
carrying souls to the other place
Out of mist and early morning light
when sunrise is a heartbeat away,
when night fades like the end of sleep,
I might see them
suspended above the trumpet vine
and sweet honeysuckle
