Wind of the Silver Hummingbird Wings

Every so often, I find
Myself assessed by other

Than my human obsession
With how I am humanly

Assessed by other humans
Whose assessing obsessions

I obsessively assess.
A hummingbird come to drink

Dinner from the decanter
Coincidentally near

The bright spot I’d picked to sit
One fine day of quarantine—

Or what passed for quarantine
In our belligerent West—

Flew close to assess me first,
So close I could see silver

Glints in her dovish white breast
And feel a breeze from her wings

On my face, as if caressed.
I passed. She drank and flew on.

Even those who lack all faith
Have known ourselves to be blessed.