Ode To A Hummingbird (P1 of 2)

Hummingbird, it's so early in the morning hours. You are an iridescent dream; you seek sweet essence from my flowers with your wiley plots and schemes. Through the quiet sounds of dawn, I hear your hum and see you fly, flitting by the garden wall, but not so far up in the sky; that I don't notice you at all. You visit from your secret nest up in my sumac tree. I know you want to hide it; to keep it safe from me. So you, you pretend you're just passing through. Oh tiny bird, I see you come to check and sip the nectar in the flowers. Gracefully, with beating wings a blur of colors, blurred for many hours. That red patch upon your tufted breast is puffed, as though it were to make you bigger; but you just look overstuffed. I laugh as you dance in space and dip into a bloom. Then I see you dart and race; to find more blossums, I presume. Perhaps to sip sweet liquid you missed yesterday, when upon your early rounds, you made your furtive way. And you, you pretend you have too much to do. (continued in P2)