Seems like hummingbirds are everywhere this month. I think they like the hot weather. Somehow they manage to find and kiss nectar out of drought-dried flowers, wings beating faster than sight.

I remember the first time I saw a hummingbird sitting on a branch. I must have been about six. I was surprised that hummingbirds had legs.

The other night, on a golden summer evening walk, I saw a hummingbird singing. I was close enough to watch its little throat bulging like a frog’s. The song wasn’t beautiful, but it inspired me:

A finger-long hummingbird who sings, because he can,

with all his might, an off-key warble,

a brave small song because,

in the world’s great harmony,

only this finger-long, emerald-backed little man

can sing that note.

This week, I hope you sing because you can.  And because you’re the only one who can sing your note.