When the storm clouds roll in, whip the sea into a frenzy I will know
it from my perch up on the mountain. The hummingbird is tossed
by currents smaller than the wingspan of solitude, slower
than the heartbeat of Earth’s molten core, impermanent
as the brushstroke of wasted time. My words will hiss on the wind:
Don’t lose yourself to the absence of nectar or the jealous buzz
and hum of bumble bees. Cradle your chance, peck out the eyes
of the day star as he rises, move away into the blanket of your night.