By Christine Swanberg
Author and Poet
The fall season has arrived, and with it, the migration of birds. Each year, hummingbirds return to our garden. I delight in them and call them by name.
In September, they feed ferociously each day, ravenous for fuel for their trek South. Some may go as far as Central America. Others stop in Texas. Here is a new sonnet celebrating hummingbirds.
Glory be to the fierce little warriors
who return to my garden every year.
Come, enjoy, drink the various nectars,
tiny bold ones. You without any fear,
teach me to cultivate fervor and focus.
Stay in our shared secret sanctuary
created for you with bergamot and phlox,
fuchsia and the feeder hung on the tree
you visit each morning. Hello! Goodbye!
Who could be freer? Fast as a torpedo
when I’m digging, spading, you catch my eye.
Faster than the wind — glanced from my window.
You share delight with your earthbound sister.
You’ve made me a hummingbird whisperer.
From the Nov. 2-8, 2011, issue