Of soft circular air, they’ll dart
To small boiling knots in high limbs:
Nests gathered of debris and web
Where tiny eggs grow translucent—
A warm red glow of life inside.
One must watch close—the sharp flight home,
An iridescent blur, slowing
A world around. But seldom one
Will freeze to notice a stranger’s
Eye, hold a breath of their racing
Pulse, then explode away, weightless,
Green flash of wild, demonstrating
Speed and energy of time.
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