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Sunday, January 15, 2012

A Damp, Tiny Voice Sings of Tomorrow

Hummingbird, hummingbird, beautiful thing
‘tween sunlight, showers you float gracefully
Never heard hummingbird attempt to sing
Yet on this fine morn’ you sang out to me
Old one, this tune, yet I could not place it
Your shimmering feathers alive in sun
Water from sprinkler as you so grace it
I stand delighted, immersed in your fun
Your warble becomes quite melancholy
Perchance you sense summer’s imminent end
I hear and forget self-induced folly
You have such a short time, dear little friend
Hummingbird, hummingbird, soon to be cold
Aging man, looking wan, soon to be old

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