thousands a minute rain
on the air as hummingbirds,
unmindful of time,
breakfast before clock orders day
and only the train
in the valley
moves on schedule.
Dashes to sweet blossoms
of trumpet vine nectar,
races to feeders,
as the tiny whisks in flight
make a game of the chase.
A fan of white-tipped feathers,
a face-off midair,
a dip and a rise two-stories high—
ruby throats flurry to feed, wise
to shadow the sweetness of day.
From in gratitude for days gone by (Blurb.com).
Used here with the author's permission.