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.