There Is Still Sugar in the Hummingbird Feeder
by Carol Hamilton

Suddenly I look up
to the edge where the window
shivered and darted
and know they are gone.
Then I hear silence
from the empty space
the purple martins must have left
while I thought instead
of the wheel webs trembling
to the hunger
of the long-legged banana spiders
and of the new-minted
young fish fluttering up
to the scattered flakes
or plunging after the pellets
that I toss on the mirroring surface
of their world. Soon the goldfinch
will turn in their showy coats
and the branches will all stand
about like grim Calvinists.
Then I will forget again
what a whirling dervish dance
the world can perform
when the orange poppies
and purple hollyhock
and the blue ragged robins sway,
and the zucchini begins to creep about.
Rich cantaloupe may dangle again
from the compost heap, unbidden gift.

Illya's Honey Literary Journal

Copyright by Dallas Poets Community. First Rights Reserved. All other rights revert to the authors.