Poem 5


When my husband caught the trapped hummingbird and freed it from the screened-in porch, his big hands, a woven bird’s nest, a few fingers opened into an escape hatch, I held my breath as one does before the delicate— that spot of bird, singular in its journey, wings like small lead windows. It seemed strange to see a big man who could easily crush the body of such a small thing release to air the hummingbird, who once in flight, turned as if to say, I’ll remember this.   Your Daily Poem, on-line, 2014

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