The Hummingbird

The Hummingbird

First I hear the sound--As if a low note I am humming echoes in my head--
A single hummingbird.
I see her now in the far plant--
She only visits bright red flowers,
Then hovers in the air,
Looking here and there,
Then sails off.
Angels they are,
Or so I think,
Coming but occasionally--
Showing us how to spot beauty
And be nourished by it.
There are many blooms.
She hovers, noticing.
She chooses only red.
It must be in her nature, in her DNA,
To choose only the flowers that she loves.
Can we?
     Judy Brown, July 8, 2017


This poem emerged in my morning journal as I wrote on the front porch of our old family home in Michigan.

I suppose it is another meditation on the power of attention. The hummingbird seems to me to have a focus and a love unwavering--despite her speed and the way she zips around.

Questions for Journaling & Conversation

What keeps us from taking nourishment from the things we love?

How can we be active in the world and mindful at the same time?

What does it feel like to place our attention on what we love?