Some Unique Snowflake.

It doesn’t matter, she tells herself. My wings are slow, thoughtful, every beat is counted. Sometimes they want to go each their own way. There it is, she can see it, the flower. Lots of them, but this one so tempting, lush layers and silky petals. She tries, the wind is brisk, a hidden thorn, ah, a torn wing. Never mind, there will be other flowers, look, something lovely there. Suddenly the sun blooms, so warm, everything is possible again. Rest, perhaps, in this bush, still the sun stays out, glorious and golden. Time to try again, where is the wind? Is it safe? Try and keep close to the garden wall, for warmth at night, this she knows. Lift and flutter, hope for the best on such a windy day. A rock with a flat top, a small dip with water flashing like jewels, drink and pause. Beyond her the slim, elegant body of a bird, hovering in the air without wings. Impossible. Wait, she sees them, a blue bur that carries the bird lightly and perfectly. From flower to flower, a lightning bolt zig zagging through the garden. Oh, to fly like that! She watches its scarlet throat let itself be seen for brief bits, a gift. The most breathtaking, elusive thing, she closes her eyes to keep it, her wings wide. Above her the hummingbird pauses, caught by the slow black and gold beauty on the rock. She watches for a moment, flies away.

“Some Unique Snowflake” by Stumbleine