Pulsing Poem

Writing on the porch, at rest after gardening,
pencil poised on a note to myself to listen
again to Larkin’s poem, perhaps “Solitude”, I forget.

A hummingbird flew into the cloud of catmint blooms,
sipping quick, on a manic quest to quench some thirst,
in the high noon sun.

On to the bleeding hearts, precisely piercing each
drooping pendulum with its needle nose,
nervously draining drops of life blood – humming.

I’m reading Stephen Dobyns on traditional meter versus free verse;
I wonder where the hummingbird fits as it flits freely
in its’ rhythmic pursuit of bleeding hearts – a fleeting poem.

The tiny iridescent blur bleeds nectar from the base of
pink hearts, slit, perfectly metered for the free flow of
sweetness to the pulsing poem on wings.

© Ann Grenier

Ann Grenier's picture

I am a retired town planner, and consultant to non-profit organizations. Currently writing poetry on my blog "Knot In Line". Working on a novel. I am a wife, mother, grandmother, country dweller, and armchair philosopher questioning life through poetry in this twenty first century.

Last updated September 28, 2011