The Summer of the Humming Bird

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.

a bird in a cage only desires one thing

a bird.
a bird in a cage
thrashing against the metal bars
losing feathers to the whistling wind wiping its wings,
and staminia breaking down with the brueses
along its fist sized body
i am a bird.
i am a bird in a cage
thrashing against the limits of my mind
tangled in lost feathers that float up in gusts of wind
and blind my sight from daylight peeking though the bars
casting shadows on my heart in the shape of
a bird.
a bird in a cage
thrashing against the metal bars
begging for its nature to be its only state.

to be set free, is all a battered bird desires.