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.