it’s always good to hear about hummingbirds

the one bean in its velcro-ey way
stuck to mo’s blue (denim-looking but not actually denim)
mo in her underwear under the arc and spray
of hose water post-mulching and
pre bean harvest under full sun
on perhaps what might be the last hot day of the season
and then baigz and i take turns
under the waterfalling
with our clothes on which doesn’t matter much because
our shirts are threadbare (mine light blue
his yellow) and will dry quickly
mo on a large day
(named that for the large soft serve zim’s
ice cream
that her and baigz decided they would make a field trip of and order
the day before)
standing with 6inch tall swirl of dairy and sugar
with a grin/smile across her face
swizzle is the word i use
to describe to myself the tiny sliver of a thin snake
squiggling its way across blacktop
in the pathway of my bike
where the magic/motion of movement – even just these two miles
is enough to welcome in the joy
the burst/sheen of brilliant color
of a single indigo bunting against
the white rock road
where it perches feasting
on a small butterfly, perhaps yellow,
but hard to tell because i am paying too much attention
to the lapis lazuli (gemstone) – colored bird
as i pedal up the last hill
towards red earth
you’re not like a dudely dude i say
to avi over what mica calls too-salty beans
which i think are just perfect
and gazpacho which is more like
a tomato-cuc salad
with yogurt cheese and yesterday’s
crackers and carrot butter
before we walk our mental d.r. map
in order to write a list of of its members
to try to discern the current
gender balance/ratio

it’s always good to hear about hummingbirds
avi says as mica reveals the facts/details
(during which i tell her to stop yelling at her phone
even though really, she is just talking at it
very calmly):
50 times/second wing beat rate
15 meters/second, 34 miles/hour flying rate
highest metabolism of al lanimals
average heart rate during flight: 1,200 beats per minute
lightning filling northern sky in pulses
as seen through yarrow windows
for a good handful of hours before the rain comes
maybe it is the time of year –
the waves of friends who live far away
and are alive in me,
how i feel us reaching for each other
(letters sent/received, voicemails left/listened to,
their presences arising in the garden beds as i
pull weeds or at the butcher block as i chop carrots or while
the wind riffles through my hair as i pedal forward)
this impulse to connect/reconnect
perhaps carried over from a long time ago
or perhaps it is lunar
from the water world:

Mike Wroten (L) and Matt Wroten throw a waterlogged couch out of the house as they clear Mike’s home out after floodwaters inundated it in St. Amant, Louisiana. Last week the southern U.S. state was overwhelmed with floodwater causing at least 13 deaths and damage to thousands of homes.
– voice of america, day in photos


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