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Hummingbird, the Inspiration

by Wei Shiow Fong
(Vestavia, AL, USA)

As I sat in the grass,
Waiting for nothing,
I began to weave a basket.
So passed the day,
Uneventful, until I saw it.
The perfect bird, so fast
I could barely keep track.
It hovered here, then
buzzed there, fluttering fast,
never stopping as it sipped
its afternoon nectar, as
I called it.
I watched in wonder as
It sailed past me,
playing chase with the wind,
always winning, its
colors shimmering in the sun.
Blues, greens, aquas of every
shade imaginable.
Seeing the bird made me think.
It was a hummingbird, I knew.
I wondered how to describe
it when I got home.
It was perfect, reality,
wonder, a brush with nature.
Then I hit the perfect word.
The hummingbird, the rarity,
was inspiration itself.

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