The Engineer and The Poet


Last night my husband dreamed of hummingbirds-

Well, just one really.
It was mid October and the rest of them had flown south

But this one lingered. Hungry, lonely, and wanting to be noticed.

Ephraim noticed.
He got out the 10 pound sugar bag from the pantry and the measuring cup

and followed the specifications from not so distant memory,

focused on the task of feeding this one loyal creature.

"You're doing more damage than good," I scolded.

"Disturbing the larger picture, upsetting their pattern."

But in my way of being too efficient—too quick to look at the whole,

I forgot pictures are made up of many details,

patterns of intricate individual designs

And those designs have hearts.

Hearts that are hungry.

Hearts that beat 1400 times a minute.