Behind the grills of painted metal, Itry 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… Continue reading hearing hummingbird: a novilinee*
A Reading Writer 