I watch him as he flies,
S T R E T C H I N G himself to his very winger-tips.
He touches, tests, and even seems to taste

The birds are singing today

I hear them

through the window

It isn’t their time of year. 

But I hear the birds

The Little Red Breast Robin

Gloomily the branches on the willows hang. The skies, stiff with gray, float aimlessly in the

My Hummingbird

Tiny little bird
The one I've come to love
To me you are more special
Than a pure white dove
Your wings move so

Flight Of A Hummingbird

Who can describe the emotions of flight
Granted to a tiny hummingbird,
Not able to utter a single word,
Upward