Poem: May 6, 2019

Hermes

The hummingbird flitted into the frame
of the front storm door window
like an actor entering from stage left
and crossing to center stage, then hovered
and exited so quickly that I wondered
if I had seen it at all. After all,
it is rare to see a hummingbird here
in our urban neighborhood, but then
the irises with their purple tongues
are blooming as are the dogwoods
and the columbines. And Leslie
just hung a sign on the front door
that says "Welcome Spring." It's nice
to imagine the hummingbird dispatched
in response, some fleet, winged messenger
who makes his appearance at the beginning
of Act I and sets the mayhem in motion.