Sunday, September 08, 2019

Trumpet, a poem


A stir! A blur of wings — one hummingbird
seeks morning’s scarlet trumpets, where the vines
have reached across, joined peach tree to magnolia.

Her jeweled green yet gray in dawn, she seeks
the nectar-sweetened colors of the sun,
amid the diamond dew on leaf and web.

A sip, side-slip to the next siren blossom —
she seeks the songs of life within each trumpet.
I’ve heard their promise echo into day.

Stephen Brooke ©2019

more a playing with words than any attempt to be profound

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