Spring.
The wind blows, sweeping across the grass that is greening up, producing multitudinous dandelions at an alarming rate .
The tulips and paper-whites sway in the breeze, standing up to reason.
Big, fat, velvet bumblebees buzz up and down and around, chasing each other up and down the length of the porch, seeming to play some unknown game that makes the dogs snap at them and try to catch them until, for their own safety and this one’s sanity, they are escorted inside, where they stand at the screen, wistful, panting.
The row of Ent-friend Cypresses on the edge of the yard stands shoulder to shoulder, holding hands, swaying in the breeze.
They know where they stand, and are thus a fine example of unconditional friendship.
This silver-haired crone sits in the white-painted rocking chair that has held her for several years now, containing her practice, embracing arthritic bones…
iPod earbud cords trailing.
“The Zen Master’s Diary” is the music of the day that is apparent, but the breeze and the bees and the dogs and the creaking of the shed door are accompaniment,
and thus complete the symphony of the apparent, leading into the concert of the music beyond music.
Suddenly, this one opens her eyes for no good reason: Look! The first hummingbird, slugging down the carefully concocted nectar made ready, content in its entitlement. What a metabolism! These friends seem drawn to meditation, flying close for a look into the face of this one, lost in absorption.
It is all You, my love.
Oh, my love.
It is all love.
That’s all.
That is enough.
Rays 
Thank you so much, Amidha!!! a lovely moment, shared.
Is Crone a good word in your lexicon? I want to say No! not Crone! — but I know some mean it as Wisdom…. ….Thank you again for time on the veranda…
Beautiful, Amidha!
Beloved, that was a beautiful poem.
We’ve often discussed the hummingbird and what folklore may have arisen around it. At hummingbirdworld.com, I found this:
“A Mayan legend says the hummingbird is actually the sun in disguise, and he is trying to court a beautiful woman, who is the moon.
“Another Mayan legend says the first two hummingbirds were created from the small feather scraps left over from the construction of other birds. The god who made the hummers was so pleased he had an elaborate wedding ceremony for them. First butterflies marked out a room, then flower petals fell on the ground to make a carpet; spiders spun webs to make a bridal pathway, then the sun sent down rays which caused the tiny groom to glow with dazzling reds and greens. The wedding guests noticed that whenever he turned away from the sun, he became drab again like the original gray feathers from which he was made.
“A third Mayan legend speaks of a hummingbird piercing the the tongue of ancient kings. When the blood was poured on sacred scrolls and burned, divine ancestors appeared in the smoke.”
The way the hummingbirds have hovered around you, I would say I have a lot of rival suitors, according to that first legend.