The moon over Rio
is upside down for someone who's only
ever given it thought from New England,
so while in Rio
I hang myself upside down
like a perching fruit bat
before it goes on its nightly
raid of Senhora de Andrade's hummingbird feeder.

I hang myself upside down
to see the moon as I'm used to it
and the blood flows to my head
accompanied by Gal Costa
and I right myself
return to  my senses
and hope that the local kilo restaurant
is still serving, otherwise
it's hummingbird nectar tonight.

Some days
the wind blows in
gentle massaging gusts

Today a temporary
wisp rushes
through the tall
oak leaf hydrangea
pushing the brown and green
branches dressed for August
to wave at me through the window

Saying no more
it dances away
like a ruby throated
hummingbird seeking
it's nectar

A hummingbird moves so fast it buzzes,
but it hopes you don’t notice.

Night's willow, guard me well,
Else the candle is out and I'm back again.
Little birdie, sing me a song,
While you pluck the stars, one by one.
Sky's clear, from there to here,
Hummingbird's safe in all the worlds we share.

Day's wail, there you are again,
The birdie's flown, I hope to see it again.
Willow's whithered, wax is dun.
The song is done, I can't think myself back.
The Sun is up, also the moon,
A remnant of night, less sung about in daylight.
It's real, I think at least,
The birdie's somewhere, woken as same.

Hummingbird singing
midnight darkest velvet sky
a sweet lullaby