Oddments

In search of story


2 Comments

Chantey

Sing a summer song
and you can’t go wrong,
a little rhythm and blues,
and a few other hues,
with a hum,
buzz,
flap.

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A coneflower snack
a jeweled backpack,
nectar to go,
and a do-si-do,
with a hum,
buzz,
flap.

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A poke and a sip,
a birdbath dip,
hangin’ with the dill
near the zinnia frill
with a hum,
buzz,
flap.

The air of the phlox,
a quick detox,
hummingbird sage
in its airy cage,
with a hum,
buzz,
flap.

A swoop and a swerve
it’s all self-serve
you can’t miss a beat
or you won’t get to eat,
with a hum,
buzz,
flap.

It won’t do to mope
on the heliotrope
or shilly-shally
down pansy alley,
with a hum,
buzz,
flap.

Gotta beat those wings
and slurp those things,
you gotta fly spry
or you’ll come up dry,
with a hum,
buzz,
flap.

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It’s not just fun
in the summer sun
but serious biz —
that’s the way it is —
when you’re on the wing,
can’t chirp or sing,
but hum,
buzz,
flap.

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Sotted and swollen
with socks of pollen
in frenzied note
from wing and throat
with their own bugspeak
and hummingbird squeak,
mostly
hum,
buzz,
flap.

Gentle percussion
over balm and nasturtium
pulse of the garden
cause of my bardin’
soft sound splinter,
I miss you in winter,
with a hum,
buzz
flap,
oh, flap!

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