Humming a Blessing
This blur of a blessing darts
left, right, up, down,
an iridescent gyroscope
hungry for nectar.
It hovers, adjusts pitch and yaw,
then divebombs you in a rufous
dervish of feathers reflecting
turquoise motes of sunlight.
For a frenetic breath it perches,
dips its slender straw once,
twice, three times, gulping
syrupy tincture before
accelerating into aspen tops.
When it returns, it comes not
single spies but in battalions,
dozens of topaz, sapphire, ruby,
emerald blessings that encircle
you with trills of wonder,
a glissando of glory that
fills you even as they
drain you dry.
Amy Nemecek is the author of The Language of the Birds (Paraclete Press, 2022), which was awarded the Paraclete Poetry Prize. Her work has also appeared in Presence, Whale Road Review, Windhover, and Last Leaves. She enjoys taking long walks in nature, preferably near a creek or river.
Amethyst Review 