Hummingbird (in Cuba, Zoom-zoom)

Hummingbirds belong in manicured back yards

hovering near red plastic feeders bought at Walmart

(On Sale, $6.95),

zoom-zooming back and forth for the amusement

of those of us behind plate glass doors

within thermostat-cooled rooms,

our toes nestled in thickly carpeted

representations of the bug-filled grass outside

(just beyond the redwood deck, and Weber gas cooker).

But these hummingbirds-

2 of them, 3, no..4 !

These hummingbirds are watching

for pink lipped blossoms

full of sweet kisses.

These hummingbirds sit in mesquite trees

(for a moment)

planning erotic dances

with the wild sisters

newly arrived from the Yucatan.

These hummingbirds have not been to Walmart;

but they have flown over a thousand miles of

white-capped oceans .

From the jungles of Chiapis

they heard the voices of 10,000 generations

calling them to grass-filled plains

and shale hills to the north

where mockingbirds and vultures,

prairie hens and quail,

crows and robins, cowbirds, sparrows, and cardinals

have gathered since before the moon set or the sun rose

as backdrops against a single, human-lit campfire.

These hummingbirds have never tasted sugar water

tinted with red dye #2 from the local IGA.

But they have tasted the essential and subtle

syrups of primroses

(growing in profusion).

They have licked the sugary insides of

Trumpet creeper stamens and

and honeysuckle pistels,

whose names are without meaning

in the brilliant beckoning

of the flowers’ sun-drenched petals.

Now, they are flying close enough to watch me.

The buzz of their wings is too fast for me to see;

I can only hear their blurry presence,

their so-curious hummed inquiries

and look quickly into their eyes,

as they determine that there is no pink, red, magenta,

or scarlet signs here worth further investigation.

I say “hello,” before they leave, while regretting

(a little, and for several minutes, a lot)

that I will never see the pyramids of Teotihuacan

or bottlenose dolphins in the Gulf of Mexico

with them.

Sunset

We, looking westward, our backs against the silent wind of the Earth’s 800 mile per hour rotation, see our view of the Sun fading. Through our atmosphere’s fullness, the Sun’s Light is absorbed, reflected, and diffused by all that is dependent on that Light. We watch the Sun, as we spin away from it into darkness, delighted by the visual beauty we behold, perhaps grateful for soon-coming coolness, and readying ourselves, in million year old learned and intrinsic attitudes, to move into the Night.

Yet, even now, beyond that horizon, there is a continuous line of people, standing at the edges of dawn. The Night becomes Day and the Earth is again bathed in Sun’s Light. Everything- every thing that is alive, is renewed by that source of our Life. We will be nourished because of that eight minute journey across space of photons to our food sources, warmth to our world, and light to our living spaces.

It is not merely the Sun “out there;” the Sun is in us. We are of the Sun, children of the Sun in every physical, chemical, and biological nuance of that phrase. We are estuaries of the Sun, each of us- each tree, each leaf of grass, each person, each creature- is a depository of the Sun’s riches, a transformer of those riches into an always new, always sunlit Creation.