rumbles, marking work and action.
Here, hummingbird darts at the red feeder,
chases the giant sparrow away (chuckling, of course).
Squirrel hordes nuts and things for winter.
The small creatures of earth move as if there is no train in the distance, as if this moment is all there is, which is truly true, busy, bursting bodies, breath.
A siren roars , cuts through silence in which the creatures thrive, part of the mystery, also.
meb/10/2015
***
Reflections, autumn morning, city
TheWisdomYears.org 
I like your hopeful poem.
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As I sit here reading your reflections on a hummingbird, I catch sight of a tiny yellow finch on a late October morning. Is this where she’s supposed to be? Bonnie
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