When the hummingbird hit the window
there was a small, singular sound,
its own strong wings creating such Force
its light, its feathers, and its air made a thump.
The tragedy of velocity. A body against unseen
glass; a body flies into a sky where there is none.
Now strangely complete, strangely perfect,
strangely majestic in death, iridescent in the sun:
Reflection can be deadly. We see: a still-hummingbird
lying still in the palm of a human hand, a mystery.