I was watching a midnight colored hummingbird, that, when it turned just so, reflected deep, shimmering patterns of blue and green across it's throat. It fascinated me so! Mostly because it was not an innocent little sparrow, or a loud-spoken crow but, in truth, a captivating little siren who knew things much too wicked for other feathered folk to fathom.
That is why the poem sounds so dark, but in truth, it was the result a very mysterious feeling that swept over me and filled my head with the words I uttered. I hope it doesn't betray my sentiments as being utterly vulgar, does it?
Oh well, he was such a dear, sly, little fellow, who was by far darker than all the other hummingbirds I’ve ever observed. Clothed in midnight garbs… If you had been there, watching it with me, I'm sure you would have seen into its little dark secrets, and thrown yourself whole-heartedly into agreement with my poem.
Such cunning, flighty creatures often give the impression of belonging to the lower class of bird-om, but they are so unconcerned with making an impression, that, to the imaginative observer, they oft make an impression much deeper than others “higher” in their race.
Thoughts as these just came to me in those moments watching the hummingbird (the only one we get, but who is a constant guest) and at the time it didn't seem at all evil or cruel just beautiful in a different manner. But when I went to write it down the words seemed harsh and hateful, and they turned my poor little hummingbird into some witch's pet or evil spirit. I didn't want that.
So: now I have written this "apology", for morbid poetry is an oxymoron in the flesh.
THE END
