There’s a bird outside my window,
hummingbird like-
it darts from tree
to tree.

It’s wood stained breast,
pale, in the afternoon light.
Boldly outlined, in a black shimmering cloak.
The dark beak
pointing the way.

I hear the song,
I understand-
but the words,
they elude me.

One tree
decorated, in frosted flowers.
This tree,
it avoids.
Always looking-
peering,
intently.
Steering clear.

I see this bird,
realize,
We,
are
the same.