Purple-rumped sunbirds bathe
in the dew that dawn has bequeathed
to a leaf - the absolution of morning,
purified to dart between the blushed lobes
of bruguiera in a thirst for nectar,
to sow their futures of two mossy eggs
in hanging nests of web and lichen.
And here, they wait for the rhythm of rain;
its shine reflected in the eye
of a pied cuckoo. A monsoon is hot
and heavy when dancing frogs are united,
a scrub greens under deluge.
Everywhere life is built from water,
and yet, can seem too unsteady
for such architecture - how it vanishes
from a hand - its reminder
of the fragility of existence.
Image is of a male purple-rumped sunbird:https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Purple-rumped_sunbird