Filled at the Center

A hummingbird zips toward the garden pausing

    at the purple morning glory opening to soak up the sunrise 

Seeing the glint of a shiny copper man-made feeder

    She abandons the royal purple

                Races over

                                Dips in her beak

                                Comes up empty

                                Tries the other side

                Still no nourishment

The snowy white Rose of Sharon quietly opens itself

     with a gentle inviting wave in the soft morning air

Pausing at the shiny falsity

      in her stillness the bird hears the call

                Racing to the open blossom

                                Bowing in her head

                                To the center

Is filled.

                              ~Karen P. Campbell