I am visited by hummingbirds; it is that

time of the year; all that is necessary is

to fill the feeder, to keep it clean, to

refill it; the parts of sugar to water

are one part sugar to four parts

water, boil, let cool, then keep

the extra nectar refrigerated; this

nectar in the feeder for these

hummingbirds may stay in place for

several days – but then it does go

bad and develop little black spots,

and it will make these working birds

ill as they are storing up for

travel   and so it is a reminder

to the self to think about the throat

and neck   and beak,   the tiny

little eyes of what delights

us,   when it arrives,    and comes

to us,   pauses alights,   what

flutters– what chooses,   for some

reason   or reasons   that point

in our gaze.

This is the morning of the total eclipse.

A neighbor is mowing his lawn.

The crickets are humming a high pitched

full echo

the sky is clear                  the sky is bright.

this morning no hummingbirds visited

the hummingbird feeder or drank that

nectar     which i had changed

at least   while i sat there   watching

during that brief time span of considering

the events of the day and the day before.

i now know to look for the thimble-sized nest

among the leaves of the hackberry-tree – somewhere

in all probability it will be there – among one

of those trees – so disparaged – of – the tiny

cup of a house covered in lichen and moss

with the children who will be movers and

shakers the ones who cannot sit still in pre

school their searching and pointy beaks saying here?

here?   –––––––––––––––––                                                       yeah

zip                                                                                    gotta

the thimble-sized nest

against leaf

constructed of threads and the mother

inside it   her beak a needle                    movement

seen       (pointed out

by the previous viewer)

through binoculars

the sky today is a pale blue heart

a cardinal flies through it

and the knot still present and its line

arms — extended

eyes open

eyes closed                               still

heart

the sea horse brain speaks to itself                                       across the divide

its two parts       its two selves      its two                              containers of

thought and memory      hello                                               hello

seemingly unreachable

until

the sea horse brain speaks to itself                                      the elephant blue

the elephant shape                                                                fence

to fence

even

as one fence                                                                              was torn down

and replaced                                                                             and

another                                                                                      painted over            bamboo green

the eye of the elephant is leaf

the trunk slope of

ivy

the elephant grey

what wasn’t reached

(the elephant has always protected me)

i said to myself there are three people i no longer

need to please; they cannot be pleased; and i named them; one-two-three

i felt vortex in the navel, whirlpool, and i decided to release them

to release my ideas of pleasing them            at that moment

of release a hawk flew across the open sky

the shape of the sky like a sea in the shape of india

it went from left to right in an upward tangent

a hawk flew into the oak

an eye, an almond eye

an almond eye on slanted branch

small birds      song birds

periodically buzz at the hawk

it sits unflinchingly         it flinches

sits up   eye white and iris         resettles into

eye      ,       into almond eye

on branch

against the sky on the road there was a knot

in the knot there was a girl

in the girl there was a woman

in the woman was a knot

behind the knot

the sky

a bird in winter is evident

thought  a call  a calling

a trill             a trilling

a chirp  a chirping

or not