I know she thought
I was trapping her as I grabbed her gingerly with my gloved hands. She didn’t know the light she saw was paned
with glass. That she could not break
through, no matter how hard she banged her weary head. Fifteen times per second, they say, a hummingbird
flaps her wings. She thought I was her enemy.
She thought I was there to stifle her. To keep her from living her life. To keep her from all that she loves. As I walked out into the garage door with her
in my grasp, even I was afraid that maybe I had killed her. Perhaps I was hanging on too tight. Perhaps her wings could not withstand the
pressure. Just as I began to pry my
fingers from her tiny body, she took off, a ray of light shooting into the
sunshine. She flew to the top of the nearest
tree…to heights higher than I could ever reach…and sang.
0 comments:
Post a Comment