Sitting outside at noon

the sun hot and high. Breeze moves

over your face, a strand of hair

caresses

your skin. From this perch, I’d watch

hummingbirds

this garden’s regulars, wings flapping, hovering

to suckle deep red abutilon blossoms

Appreciating

sounds that silence brings, churning of life. I’d wait

Two of them

sit on a black wire

communicating with their bodies

My focus would narrow in, to notice the hush

contented tranquility

even hummingbirds are

still sometimes.

First published in The Distance of Skin, Poetry in the Time of COVID-19, Spring 2020, City College San Francisco, CA.