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A small wonder’s playing out on our urban deck this evening.
Dusky clouds sidle across the western sky. Cream, peach, rose…blending as in one corner of a Monet or Degas palette.
Against that lavish background, a sudden movement as one of our resident hummingbirds swoops in, hovers at the railing, eyes me through balusters and trailing vines.
This juvenile, barely three feet from my face, hesitates long enough to sense my welcome, then lands and sips nectar from our feeder.
Close behind, Mama, too, surveys me before taking her demure turn. Finally, Papa, informed by now of my benevolence, forgoes caution and drinks his fill.
Sated, he lifts his head, where the sun’s ember ignites that iridescent ruby throat. And I, too, am full.
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