What the Hummingbird Sees

They call her Hummingbird, tiny and splendidly arrayed,
flitting from task to task, as they to flowers,
a perfect lady, they say,
not seeing the determination behind the feathery insouciance,
the strength it takes to fly against gravity
seeking petals of radiance and ambrosial air.
She parses sweetness with her forked tongue,
choosing the sublime. When she must, she rests,
and in her torpor visualizes the colors beyond their spectrum,
her vision, waiting for tomorrow when the sunflowers will rise.