Across the Miles

When dusk finally comes, I am weary.
Tired and stiff from bending, digging,
From hauling water and planting, weeding-
Too weary for tears but eyes filling,
Splashing the apricot rose anyway.
I listen for hummingbird wings.

In Oswego tea (red monarda,)
In blue anise hyssop and harebells, cranesbill,
In cardinal vine and milkweed, roses-
I sink to my knees in the twilight
Seeking some peace from the grinding of day.
I rest where the hummingbirds feed.

I hear the hum first then I see him;
Wings beating air so quickly, blurring,
Squeaking a challenge, demanding, warning-
A rubythroat shimmers before me.
Dipping and rising in air he is writing.
I'm watching a hummingbird dance.

And just as the glow of the evening
Slides down the trunks of the pine trees, fading,
Just as the hummingbird finishes feeding,
I think of a friend who loves hummers.
I sing in the peace of the ending of day,
Rejoicing for hummingbird wings.

copyright maeve in Maine August 8, 2008 all rights reserved