June 30, 2011

Hummingbird by Aaron Poller

L’ oiseau mouche is missing now,
yet we think her arrival imminent,

sooner. The feeder often attracts her
while pale sun against the sculpted rose

in the window should also welcome,
nudge her gently in our direction.

Perhaps as we keep a watch for her,
she will fly backpedaling to a standstill,

complete paradox of motion and balance
posed in whatever we would call her will,

allowing long enough to nourish,
disappearing into spring’s thin air.

Aaron Poller lives in Winston-Salem, North Carolina where he works as an advanced nurse psychotherapist and an instructor of mental-health nursing at Winston-Salem State University. He has been writing and publishing poetry since the mid 1960’s when he studied creative writing and poetry with Robert Mezey, Jean Garrigue and Daniel Hoffman. He resides in a small house with his wife, four dogs and two cats.  

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