The dip and dive of the hummingbird
just protecting her young
never reached beyond the honeysuckles,
where she rested and never woke up.
There she lays, the dewdrop queen
quieted by butterfly kisses
that couldn’t calm the hum of her heart
even when the willow brush began to sway
like the funeral waltz of a damaged widow’s brigade.
This flower ringed beauty was bound by vine
too jealous to let her wings keep going
so they laid her low
leaving her babies up too high
even for heaven to bow down and embrace them.
Without their mother, how will they survive?
That’s it, 30 for 30. 30 poems in thirty days.