This morning,

at breakfast,

clad in green smoke,

Humming-girl paid

a visit and darted

between the fizz and

drizzle of gray rain,

unspattered.

Mid-air, she paused –

suggestion of form

and wings; an aura,

a blur –

to observe us encased

in our glass-walled

box.

We think ourselves

sovereign. Free.

Absurd.

In a breath and a wink,

she was

gone.

— C.Birde, 9/21