A little tweet

As I go out in the evenings to water my garden, I can almost taste the bitter dust of drought as I see the birds sitting on my fence posts, pining...
wishing they were brave enough to
drink.
shower.
swim.
If they had tongues, I'm sure they would pant.

I don't have a bird bath
but I have pity
And with this pity
and my hose
I have chased away
many birds

But tonight was different
...I wasn't thinking about birds as I watered.
Nor was I thinking about my garden.
Nor water
nor wind
nor evaporation
I wasn't even moving back and forth to cover the ground evenly.
I was just standing there.

Briefly I saw something out of the corner of my eye, and then there suddenly was a hummingbird bathing in the spray of my dormant hose

This time I held still
on Purpose.

I felt honored that the little dude picked my hose to have a shower under. But it didn't last long.

This reminds me of a dream I had about an orange bird that came to visit me on the patio one night.
We became friends.
It was not afraid of me, and I was not cautious.
As the night wore on, I became very aware that I could not keep this little orange bird.
It did not belong to me
and the moment was brief.
It was a temporary blessing,
a fleeting glimpse of the colliding of two very different worlds ...one in which I knew little about.

The hummingbird
is a symbol for accomplishing that which seems impossible.