Do you see him? Not the greatest hummingbird shots but the best I’ve ever gotten.
He (or she?) let me get about 3 feet away.
This rufous has a ruby-throated friend who comes to our feeder, too, so I hope I can get a photo of him someday.
It’s morning, and again I am that lucky person who is in it.
And again it is spring,
and there are the apple trees,
and the hummingbird in its branches.
On the green wheel of his wings
he hurries from blossom to blossom,
which is his work, that he might live.
He is a gatherer of the fine honey of promise,
and truly I go in envy
of the ruby fire at his throat,
and his accurate, quick tongue,
and his single-mindedness.
Meanwhile the knives of ambition are stirring
down there in the darkness behind my eyes,
and I should go inside now to my desk and my pages.
But still I stand under the trees, happy and desolate,
wanting for myself such a satisfying coat
and brilliant work.
The Hummingbird by Mary Oliver