|Hummingbirds, almost ready to fledge outside my studio in Santa Fe|
A hummingbird flew into my studio, landing on the wide window sill where she fluttered between the glass and a wood cut-out of two flamenco dancers. Her emerald wings winked at the edges of the woman’s ruby skirt.
To save her, I cupped that tiny bird made of air and magic in my hands.
Quiet, she brushed the side of her beak along my finger
Eyes bright and dark, she looked at me.
Curious, I think.
I wanted to ask her what she’d seen on her journeys.
I wanted to invite her to stay and build a nest out of spider webs.
What I wanted, though, wasn’t the point,
So I walked her to the open doorway and opened my hands.