The explosive flutter of quail taking flight;
the plastic twist of hummingbird gossip;
the frantic grate of a hummingbird warning
to a trespassing blue jay.
The sharp pain of exquisite beauty:
the sun rising as the moon sets;
the gentle embrace of verdant hills.
The slimy tracks of early-morning snail commutes
that silently call us from our sleeping tombs
to greet the day and face our fears once more.
But how can I do this
without community, without worship, without routine?
I am trapped in a cage of my own making:
excuses, rationalizations, fear.
And just like that a hummingbird brings me back to myself
to this moment
to the swirling sound of insect song
to the truth:
We have all we need.