Sitting calmly on an August day,
observing the hummingbird circus,
speed freak avians zip and dive,
competing for sweets, alive with color.
They feed or die, small-hearted birds,
Their grace exceeding the words I know,
ones perfectly fitting, aptly describing
the thoughts inside their heads.
On this sunny SoCal day,
awed by the winged brilliance,
I fail a poet’s duty, even as they
dance in the sky that is theirs alone.
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