From LeeAnn: “I thought I was answering the question “Why do you write?” but the poem I wrote really answers the question “What is the last bird you saw?” So I was completely surprised by the process. And delighted as well.”
A Hummingbird Pauses by the Window
By LeeAnn Pickrell
where I sit writing I swear
it’s my friend Norma flitting around
two days after her memorial
a reminder to step
into the morning glory’s purple gaze
to welcome the ancient oak in the dog park
that offers me a branch
low enough to climb up and sit on
That night the full moon hanging low in the sky
over the city, over the bay, over the town,
guiding us home after the jazz show
where the singer’s voice
tumbled and rose with the saxophone
like the moon playing hide and seek
with the clouds
The next day two hummingbirds
fly figure eights near our cherry tree
—fruitless—yet this morning
a crimson cherry hangs by its stem
Lily Tobias 
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