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Image for post
Ruby-Throated Hummingbird (female or juvenile) — Photo My Own

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

Written by

Occasional poet. Writer of sad essays. Novelist. Birder and amateur photographer. I enjoy trees.

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