On my way to work, something fell from the sky. As I walked closer to it, it appeared to be a small piece of paper iridescent green colour. I bend down to pick it up and it was paper light.
Good Lord. A hummingbird. I don’t know what to do. I was so scared that it might have died from the impact of hitting the pavement. It was breathing so fast. Stroking it as gently as possible and praying to it “Please do not die” was all I can do,
I turned around and went to the nearest bush. I laid it gently, left and hope it will come back to its senses.
On my coffee break around 10 am, I went to check the bush. The hummingbird was gone. I hope it flew away.
This was the first time I encountered a hummingbird.
Fast forward a year later. Spring, a beautiful sunny day, however, the dark night of the soul is trying to invade me.
I was gardening on my balcony at the same time talking to God.
God, where are you. I don’t particularly like how I am feeling, please take this away from me. Where are you?
Suddenly I heard this whooshing sound. It was high pitched buzzing more like it. Am I hearing things now? Or the tension is affecting my eardrums again?
I look up and right in front of me was this beautiful golden hummingbird.
Oh my God. I repeated this so many times in my mind. Transfixed to this small creature, I did not breathe nor move for fear of scaring it away.
Time stood still.
Zoom, it was gone. So was the dark night of the soul.
From here on, the hummingbird is my constant companion especially when I tend to garden. One hummer brought others and they stay around all year.Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day;
And give us not to think so far away
As the uncertain harvest; keep us here
All simply in the springing of the year. Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white,
Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;
And make us happy in the happy bees,
The swarm dilating round the perfect trees. And make us happy in the darting bird
That suddenly above the bees is heard,
The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill,
And off a blossom in mid air stand still. For this is love and nothing else is love,
The which it is reserved for God above
To sanctify to what far ends He will,
But which it only needs that we fulfill. A Robert Frost Hummingbird Poem