They dart around my head
more focused on each other
then on me
as the tiny bodies
on tiny wings
fling themselves through
the air.
All for a taste of the
sugar syrup
hanging and swaying in
the breeze.
I sit in my chair
book in hand
as aerial battles commence
squeals as they cut through
the air descending
on one another.
The air hums with
the rage of something
that could fit in the
palm of my hand.
Silence never lasts long
as truces can be ended
with the single twitch of
a wing that sends everyone
into the air again
as the screaming begins anew.
The afternoon crawls on
as the
book almost done as laps
are flown
around the house feeder to
feeder
and I am content.
