red-throated hummingbird migration 

one 
last sweet nectar feast 
before
fledglings and seasoned fluttering flyers
take to the wind led by stars and ancient  instinct 
due south
to winter in the Panamanian tropics 
along the Gulf of Mexico 
until the spring 
when they return to nest

~kat

The long hot days of summer seemed endless when we were in the thick of it, wilting in the heat and humidity day after sweltering day. And then, just like clockwork, the days grew shorter, the air snapped crisp and cool, and the trees turned from green to shades of gold, red, and amber. Just like that the hummingbirds drained my nectar feeders in a feeding frenzy to fatten themselves up before heading south.

I will miss them. They’re happy chirping outside the window while I work. But winter is coming. And winter is no place for a delicate hummingbird to be. As sure as their radar directs them to the tropics, I rest in the assurance that they will return come spring, like they do every year…like clockwork.

I wonder what it is like to trust one’s instinct so doggedly that taking a thousand mile trip into the unknown known is just the annual thing one does when the temperature drops. I wonder if I have instinctual, intuitive capacity hidden somewhere inside me. I wonder if I surrendered to it, trusted and had faith enough that I would at long last find my way to nirvana or utopia, or whatever destination it is that we all seem to be driving toward. Somewhere along the way from birth to these many decades later, I’ve forgotten how to fly. The truth is, I have forgotten I have wings. How grateful I am for the lessons of my little friends. In fact I feel a little flutter in my heart just thinking of it!

much love, peace, and fluttering glimmers to you!

~kat ✨✨✨💚💚💚✨✨✨