Wind rocks the little basket
set in a bough of the fuchsia plant
where a tiny ball of down,
chick with needle beak,
sleeps and breathes and grows.

Mother in her neck of emerald
zooms in every half hour
with her cargo: the milk
of blooming shrubs to feed
this young one sprung
from an egg she laid
in this straw cottage.

See her balance in the air
buoyed on thrumming wing,
watch the feeding beak to beak,
the careful passing of life’s
torch from one to another.

When she flies off, peek
into the nest and see the downy
being dreaming of sweetness,
gathering strength, growing
its perfect limbs to one day

brave the whipping winds,
the citrus scented waves
of spring to add its life
to this cruel and beautiful
world, doing the vital work
of kissing flowers.

*The Portuguese word for hummingbird

© by Tamara Madison.
Used with the author’s permission.