Hummingbird Poem by Mark Heathcote
Hummingbird
The hummingbird thumbs
A flower of thought
In its tongue
Of Indian ink
It sips and then spills
A thousand souls
Before it spills
It's own,
And piercing the wind
Like a mountain peak
With the weaving
Of a soul to keep;
This little bird brings us
Sweet pressed blooms
To incense us for hours
In the glory of love
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Topic(s) of this poem: poem
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4/25/2024 11:20:30 AM # 1.0.0.1119
