Hummingbirds

Someone once told me that small, fast creatures experience time at a different rate:

Slowly enough to see each raindrop lose its form and spread upon the ground,

Slowly enough to see each chip the woodpecker creates,

Slowly enough, perhaps, to see this strange telepathy between us.

I like to think that as they peer in on us sitting in silence,

Reaching simultaneously for each other's hands and beaming at how natural it feels,

They see a cascade of tiny sparks,

Arching from your eyes to mine, your soul to mine, your mind to mine,

Causing this simple, perfect harmony.