Against a fire bridge of sunrise, Blue smoke still under the pines, A humming bird clings to a sheet of sky, Light-sensitive paper wings fragile As spring ice. The eye, messenger Of flash and shatter, stumbles on This sudden angle photo. The inexplicable takes form, Arranging itself like a watercolour dawn Opening in slow motion. The conspirators of dark and cold Are given short shrift in the moment The worldβs heart stops, touched By the quick wing beat of April flight.