A bird was humming,
not far away.
In search of nectar,
in midst of May.
I looked from yonder,
at beating wings.
A sight of wonder,
in early spring.

A little bird,
with a slender bill.
Who seeks a rose,
in field and hill.
From every flower,
he takes a sip.
With ease and skill,
he makes the trip.

As He devoured,
some honey flower.
His thoughtless mind,
devoid from power.
There are two things,
he seeks in life.
To earn a meal,
and find a wife.

The nest, half a walnut, about;
two tiny, unhatched eggs,

and this, November, cold after
a rare storm spun off a rare named one,
back east,
brought rain, right between the harvest
and the harvest festival,
as far as city folk imagine… I must assume,
no, allow,
no, imagine, I must
as far as I might say I know,
say these'll never hatch.

The flax will be just fine, though the
wheat will just be fodder.

when her heart flutters faster
than the wings of a hummingbird,
his steady heartbeat anchors her
to the solid ground underneath their feet.

wild thrill of the chase
hummingbird and bumblebee
~getting a buzz on




Mark Toney © 2020

Where the flowers speak
and bees prepare honey
the world seems chaotic
a whirling poetic journey.

A path is constructed
down the aisles of trees
among flowers conducted
amidst the busy bumblebees.

Under the joyous sun fly
collect the life and warmth
as far, as fast and as high
a tiny heartbeat storms.

The world is so appealing
inside the tiny bushes
where beauty is revealing
the smells of nature blushes.

And then I saw it,
At dusk, beating its small wings.
A guest from heaven.

Right in the center
Between my brows
The third ajna eye
Calls out to the crowd
Consciously choosing
Who to meet
Consciously moving
The world ‘neath my feet
Consistently bruising
Ego’s covering,
Shell so battered
It’s nearly shattered.
Hovering like those
Sacred birds
Iridescent wings
In my dreams
Answering to nature’s
Haunting calls
Answering to future
And destiny’s pulls.