Hummingbird of the Morning: Everyday Magic, Day 620

I heard the hummingbird before I saw it. Then I looked to my right as she moved closer, shooting within a foot of my face, the red glow in her neck like an external heart. I stayed still. She stayed still, well, still in that way that hummingbirds do it while racing their wings about 50 mph. I figured that if I didn’t move, she would stay longer, and I was right. So I breathed, and she hummed and hovered. Then it was over.

A realist might say she was near me looking for food in a drought that flattened many of her usual flowers. Or a naturalist might tell me the truth: hummingbirds are on the move, in the middle of an early fall migration. But for me, what happened was a miracle, fast-moving as a hummingbird’s wings, and as tiny and vibrant as its ruby throat.


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