It is early, like six or so. Outside, the crow is very engaged in its own loud chanticle to Summertime.
A tribute to the more discreet hummingbird surreptitiously comes back to mind; magic flight in reverse, this is one by the lonesome Emily D., written long ago:
A Route of Evanescence,
With a revolving Wheel –
A Resonance of Emerald
A Rush of Cochineal –
And every Blossom on the Bush
Adjusts its tumbled Head –
The Mail from Tunis – probably,
An easy Morning’s Ride –
Finding beauty in unsuspected places… oh, Life Surprising!