‘Standing still in your past, floating fast, like a hummingbird’

That’s my favorite lyric from one of my favorite songs from one of my favorite bands, Wilco.

This weekend was probably the last time I’ll see my favorite birds floating fast — until next spring. Our flowers have mostly bloomed and withered, leaving sparse food for our feisty gang of hummingbirds.

Every year they always use this same perch from our maple tree. So I got out the good camera and shot this while Adela entertained herself by scratching lichen off our outdoor porch swing. Later, when one hovered close to her, she pointed up and said “bird!” My heart melted, again.

Silhouette of a ruby-throated hummingbird

but in the deep chrome canyons of the loudest Manhattans
no one could hear him…
…or anything”

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