Prayer for the Hummingbird
 

 
Down on the lake edge, grasses bow to the cold snow-wind,
And bare aspens agree, bending toward hard waters without solace.
The snowdust wavers in the white eye, sending time into whirls and colors
Into oblivion, although
In California we are not supposed to know
What all these chills are for,
Nor meant to face
This hard bright water blind.

Under the carport, hard edges have been placed
-- They snap at every passage as far
As the heart can hear or even know
Under the law of snow wind
Coloring the very mind.
Those who still have far to go
Must think harder, hold the star
Just there, beyond the frost-long face.

This is where blood and fingers go
The private door
Fighting the private race
And no-one will mind
That time, unkind,
And hardened places
Will not reveal the core ?
Where the real heart knows alone,

Knows and know