(unfooted small bird)
I am a hummer; I bustle
from blossom to blossom all day.
My feet are too small to be useful —
no matter: I hover, buzz forward and backward;
my tongue probes lobelia’s petals,
her column of crimson delights.
My chicks are asleep in their soft woven nest.
I lined it with milkweed and stitched it with web.
Their dreams are of nectar, each drop sweet as honey.
When summer is over I’ll take to the sky,
toward a horizon of flowers that beckon
in colors more radiant than sun.
Nancy Schmalz, Mineral Point