In the summer of the hummingbird, 

I could sit on my back patio swing

in the early morning sun,

and watch two humming birds

dance atop a sugar feeder.

 

The copper lighthouse swayed 

with soft winds and

the cherry nectar drained

while the dancers drank the wine.

 

They chirped and hummed

along to the morning birds songs,

and the hot sun bared down as it grew.

And we watched in awe.

 

A violent hum in the air broke 

when the dancers parted ways.

But we refilled the golden feeder

and the lovers returned each day.