Hope

A thin sadness runs through the evening

weaving in and out of birdsong and shadow.

Yet a hummingbird perches at the feeder

taking frequent staccato sips.

And I can’t help but see

its tiny body as a miracle,

the flash of red at its throat

proof of joy in the world.

Please share your comments and insight.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.