Hummingbird 05.14.24

I seem to see them in May

May 2023, or was it May 2022? I was up in the far away, driving around a small island with some Gen Z backpackers, and at lunch, we were buzzed in a row by a curious hummingbird.

It flitted in front of each of us in a row, hovering in midair, seemingly examining us.

Its wing beats sounded a small whir, almost like a small mammal's breath or a bee's abnormal buzz.

Today, just now, on the apartment back patio, turmeric coffee in hand, greasy hair, my mangled plaque psoriasis soles of feet in a pair of old purple snake print metallic Birkenstocks (very hummingbird colors that I think of it.)

Donning my navy blue, floral, and unicorn summer pajamas, sitting on my small stool, and pondering what mammal last evening had overturned my grape plantings and dug through my chives, I heard this low rumbling, whir sound above my head.

It almost sounded like it could have been a squirrel or raccoon purring in the arborvitae bushes to my right.

I looked up at the bushes and saw nothing.

Then I looked to my right and left, where the sound was above my head.

A hummingbird was looking directly at me, hovering over my head, slightly to my left, just under the old wooden trellis.

The tiny bird didn’t register immediately, but then I recognized it as a hummingbird.

It seemed to want to fly to my face level and made a slight dart down. However, it remained above me, as if analyzing who I was.

I stayed very still but then said, “Hello, friend.”

The bird tilted its head at me, darted towards my upturned face, and then back out.

“Thank you for the visit.”, I said as my lips quivered in half a smile, and a press of tears came to my eyes.

I looked away and looked back up; it cocked its head again, looking at me, and whisked off.