The Hummingbird

This week I am reading Margaret Atwood's book, "Negotiating with the Dead, A Writer on Writing."

During lunch I did not eat, but started the chapter called Nobody to Nobody. One of the things that Atwood says in this chapter, and that I agree with, is that "the thoughts and emotions in a book are not necessarily those of the writer in it."

For me, this holds true whether I am writing poetry or fiction.

While reading, a female Ruby-Throated Hummingbird came to my feeder and inserted her long needle-like beak into the yellow bee guard five or six times.

I returned to the yellowed paperback in my hands, enchanted by her visit.

When I looked up again---her wings must have caught my eye---there she was, on the other side of the window once more. I suspect that she was the same female hummingbird who had visited before, but of course, I cannot know that.

Again she sipped from the same yellow bee guard, one of four spaced evenly around the circumference of the feeder. Again she took five or six dips into the portal for nectar.

I watched the whir of her wings, and realized that next to her, I move in slow motion. If she thinks at all about humans, she might think us inanimate, like rocks, so slowly do our hearts beat, compared to hers.

How do I know that it was a female hummingbird, and not a male? I live in an area where only Ruby-Throated Hummingbirds thrive, and only the males bear the distinctive ruby-colored throats. It is too late in the season for immature birds to be flying about, although the juvenile males wear the plain, white throats of females, and mothers.

My son is grown now, but I remember when his face was as smooth and beardless as my own.

As I write this, not knowing whether another soul will set eyes on it, I am reminded of Margaret Atwood's book for and about writers. It is due back at the library in ten days.

Who am I writing for? Where will this electronic page go, and how will it be received?

silence surrounds me---
startled by the hummingbird
I spill my tea

I leave you with my latest haiku, above, and the hummingbird, who flew into the trees. The level of nectar in the feeder, for all appearances, remains every bit as high as before.

The same cannot be said of my cup.

My name is Rae Hallstrom, and Ameriku® is my art and my business and my brand.

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