Issue 28, Summer-Fall 1962
for Germaine Montero
Once, along the empty streets of your voice,
I saw a ruby-throated hummer
Defy the air, and sunlight smoke with choice
And dappled fragrances of summer.
The bird, flashing, whirled over the idle lawn,
Caught in the lift and beck of flowers.
He stopped, swayed, flickered a moment, and was gone.