When Hummers Dream by Mara Purl

Author:Mara Purl [Purl, Mara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bellekeep Books
Published: 2011-07-25T06:00:00+00:00

The hummer tried to understand.

Know. Think. Know.

Something stirred in his mind, urging him to make sense of things.

All is life. Life is good. I am life.

How could he be in two places at the same time? He

couldn’t be hovering somewhere above himself and still actually be himself and be where he belonged.

So that could only mean one of the two images of himself was a pretend-image.

He’d seen glimpses like this before. Darting near human- places, he’d see another hummer right in his own territory. But on closer inspection, the intruder would match his own movements exactly.

Mirage. Water was like that sometimes, offering a picture, bouncing it back.

The hummer looked down again, certain the false image would have disappeared by now.

He’s still there! He must be real, then. My garden! Must fight!

He dove, expecting his adversary to engage, spin and twirl, buzz and sing. Instead, he twirled through the thin air by himself, downward past the high branches, till he found himself lying on the soft white cloth.

Eyes closed, his chest constricted, his head throbbing, his feathers heavy. Then that familiar, comforting sound reached him.

Reply. Must reply so the nice sound wouldn’t stop.

Know. Think. Know.

He could feel his beak opening slightly.

More of the sound.

Blink. Blink. Blink.

Yes! Awake! But more. Everything was more! He remembered colors—but these were brighter, clearer.

With every ounce of strength he possessed, he spread his wings in ever-so-slight a gesture. The sound came again as if encouraging him.

Lift. Flap. Lift.

He felt his body lighten, saw the white cloth get smaller below him. His body was his own again—the air fresh, the sunlight warm. He wanted to trill and soar, swoop and dart.

But first, he must know the source of the sound. The human sat watching him as if light were coming out of her face, and still making the nice noises.

Kind. Soft. Strong.

Hovering close, he looked in her giant’s eye and saw his own reflection. Then he turned and saw the garden framed in front of her.

Different. Not his daytime garden. All contained in a kind of window, this was the garden he saw every night when he dreamed.

All here. His favorite flowers, bushes, trees, his most resonating colors; his most cherished nectars, enough to let him sip his way to heaven.

How here? He wondered how he could see his night-garden here in the daylight, and then he understood. This human was a dream-maker. Only Spirit could have shown her this. She’d made him his very own map of his heart’s desire.

How tell her? Though he wondered if her huge, slow eye could see his quick one, for a heartbeat he closed his in acknowledgment.

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