Hummingbird

I never saw one, growing up

Such an impossibly tiny thing

But here it hovers, eight floors high

In a garden meant to heal with distractions

Overlooking a summer canopy of green

A park planted in memoriam of a forest

Four floors above that we try to sleep

Through sirens, nurses, IVs, crying

So we travel down to this open air oasis

They tell us we can visit anytime

During certain hours, with a doctor’s note

We retreat here, after that sad rave in the MRI

With its pulsing, painful EDM beats

We join our little friend for its lunch

Doctors read your blood like tea leaves

Study the runes in your brain

Finally, your ring of shamans pronounces:

MOGAD, as if we were in middle earth

But your new fellowship chose another name

More befitting your indefatigable heart

Down the elevator, back to our safe space

Search for gnome homes, sculptured reptiles

Slowly walk the rubber paths, flower to flower

Meander swift courses traced above our heads

Follow, but not too closely, not too soon,

My little hummingbird