The Hummingbird

I watched,
like the waning of the moon
Full as bright
during the darkest of nights
growing ever smaller
until I became new again,
a sky suckled teet
white with milky snow

we'll call it a daydream,

those mountains
those sounds of consummation
my pound of gooseflesh
in each written word,
resuscitation;
every breath we called a daydream
with only Sal's piano to guide;

the pounding resounds

"Open the door!"
...and in that innocent time it takes
to be certain of it
walnuts in Tandum
on a silver platter
create themselves, they recreate themselves
haunt resturants and dark corners
however far apart
from  rippled shores to dappled lakes
...a scratch of sonnet, 
in drifting moonlight.

somewhere still resides

the distant Hummingbird,

"i hear you" he confides

and I remember,

to believe.

Reviews

[h d e rushin]

I moved the ornamental fig tree from one spot to another...Just the simplest of actions caused it such trama, that all of the leaves fell off of it. I imagined that somewhere in this cataclysm there was a poem about distance and belief; the beating, fragility of a living thing.
My daughter use to sing to this plant simple songs when she was a little girl and I do believe that sound penetrates leaves and wings and
all the things of this world that holds moisture.

Your gift is to still give off the glow of wonder
and anfraction / wonderful poem my friend.

[Nipplegrinder]

Lovely poetry. Last stanza, strong.

[Jon Roggie]

I might have the count wrong, but the heart of this seems to be twelve lines.
Still the hummingbird hovers.

[The Rock And Roll Cowbo..]

Such an exquisite piece of poetry... I especially loved this part

however far apart
from rippled shores to dappled lakes
...a scratch of sonnet,
in drifting moonlight.

[Corset]

Thank you :)

[Ken Simm.]

you write personal words of perhaps memory that resound with the reader. Or this one anyway. To the point where I feel part of a story I know nothing about. And that is no mean feat.

[Corset]

Thank you :)