My "L" assignment for class

Lick, lick
Lapping the nectar
I do not hear the sounds
but imagine them in his
tiny ears
The jeweled creature,
decked out in irridescant
cloak of green and gold,
feeds quickly, then moves
to the next trumpet flower
Not picky, the artificial
reds and greens do not
deter him from his
dining pleasure.

His wings
beat quickly,sustaining him
in resting place as his long
bill goes in and out,
in rhythm he soothes
me into meditative
dreams.

He is focused,
in the moment, intent on
fueling himself for the
journey ahead. Drinking,
drinking, filling his tiny
being with nectar.

Stopping at my
feeder, I am honored
he is refueling here.
Like the hummingbird,
I too am on a journey,
and my heart opens
feeling nature’s kinship.
I travel within me,
migrating to a deeper
sense of me, sipping at
spiritual nectar to sustain
my path to enlightenment.

As nectar fills up this tiny creature,
for the long road ahead, I
too need similar
fuels to energize my soul,
quiet time, surrounded by
things I love. Yet, the more
active creative pursuits i so
enjoy also
help my migration south from mind
to heart to soul, where warmth and
compassion welcome me.

I do not have to fly over great
distances, to warm climates, to
escape the cold that looms, and
realize that right here is where
I need to be, with my hungry
soul awaiting me.

And then, like the hummingbird
who flies to tree branches,
to rest, to digest,
I settle into the cozy chair
embracing peace,
enfolding love, letting
it settle into my being
for too much, too fast
leaves
me little time to appreciate
its subtle impact.

The hummingbird’s bill allows
him to drink deep into the flower
center, I too must tap into
the deepest realms of me
to access all of me,
where complete
nourishment lies.

Quickly, so quickly the bird’s
wings move
in rhythm with my excited
heartbeats,as he moves up and down,
backwards and forwards, an
acrobat in flight,
dazzling my eyes with
magical maneuvers,
so too do I
need to be flexible, to move
in all directions, to fully explore
who I am, leaving nothing
uncovered.

The hummingbird feeds from
hundreds of flowers in a day,
to sustain him in his long journey,
I too must tap into all offerings
of life, accepting each being encountered
unveiling the
mysteries of who I am.

Perhaps I will not find the
truth of me, the hummingbird
does not always survive,
predators like cats, and
pesticides and electric fences
claim its demise
Perhaps my own truth
will not be found, for
fears lurk in hidden recesses,
ready to pounce

The hummingbird does
not seem bothered by
what lies ahead,
only taking care of himself,
right now
His life is a lesson for me
and with gratitude,
I accept his teachings.

Beverly Bronson 2008