Behind the grills of painted metal, I
try to find the source of song I’m hearing,
some leaves started dancing with wind so dry,
then comes the busy wings flapping, flapping.
A hummingbird with honeyed beak, tiny,
oblivious of watching eyes – for good.
No one wants to be watched when it’s windy,
and nectar hides inside the flower’s hood.
“Close your eyes as I struggle silently,
my limbs can carry me from tree to tree.”