PHIL the harmonic hummingbird

Painting by Ruth Kear

On an early spring morning, when the day was just dawning,
And the air was as still as a pond,
Two hummingbirds dated, and in seconds had mated,
Creating a natural bond.

No time for formalities, or talk of moralities,
Four seconds is all that’s required.
Dad quickly took flight, it was a “quickie” alright,
He’d done his job: it was all he desired.

Procreation achieved and PHIL was conceived,
Mum hummed off to build a small nest.
Two eggs she did lay, quite common they say.
She thought her brief life had been blessed.

She nursed them and cherished, but one of them perished!
SID Snake was rather hungry that day.
So, when PHIL looked around, no sibling he found,
And his mother had just flown away!

PHIL gave a small squeak as his future looked bleak,
With no adults to show him the way.
But he emerged from the nest, to give his wings a good test,
And something special occurred on that day.

It was almost ironic, that the Royal Philharmonic,
Were practicing their music next door.
PHIL got quite excited, and within him ignited,
A curiosity he just couldn’t ignore.

He flew to a tree so he could listen and see
The source of all the attraction.
He whistled along and chirped with each song.
It gave him so much satisfaction.

But when a crescendo did rise, there were tears in his eyes,
And frustration that he couldn’t take part.
But as the notes rose and soared, it was a sound he adored,
And music had stolen his heart.

Yet he had limits in choice, that gave him no voice,
And he flew back and forth for some time.
But was suddenly aware of a strange noise in the air.
The humming he made was sublime!

With each beat of his wings, he heard brass and heard strings,
For percussion he’d tap with his beak.
When he swooped through the trees, woodwinds filled the breeze,
His orchestra was simply unique.

PHIL’s symphony was rich, it had perfect pitch,
As he danced from flower to flower.
He needed the nectar and was an avid collector,
As it gave him more musical power.

His Allegro was cheerful, his Adagio tearful,
His solo Cadenzas astounded!
The more that he flew, his confidence grew,
And the better and better he sounded.

He had recently heard there was many a bird,
That inspired orchestral creations.
Nothing seemed wrong, with a bit of birdsong.
He worked hard at his humming vibrations.

There was Lark Ascending by Vaughan, Sibelius’s Swan,
Beethoven’s Pastoral collection.
The Nightingale Song would make PHIL hum along.
With others he felt a connection.

The trills of Ravel would make his heart swell.
Delius’s Cuckoo was a work of esteem.
PHIL thought it absurd, that a small hummingbird,
Could join such an illustrious team.

Yet progress was steady, and soon he was ready.
And this may sound a little bizarre!
He thought it was vital, that he give a recital,
To show the public his full repertoire.

If he could find a presenter, the renowned Lincoln Center
Could well be the start of big things.
Then perhaps he could get a firm date at the Met,
To show off his musical wings.

Alas, there was sadness, emerged from this madness,
PHIL had enjoyed his brief moment of levity.
His musical feat was short and was sweet.
Hummingbirds are not known for longevity.

It was amazing how fast two years had gone past,
PHIL’S tempo had started to change.
And he had to agree, that a high middle C
Was now completely out of his range.

He’d enjoyed flying high, with his friends in the sky,
Creating music as he hummed along.
He’d not missed a beat, and his life was complete,
But it was time for his final Swan song.

PHIL’s humming creations gave him great expectations,
But we know they were just a delusion.
But the lesson we learn gives no need for concern.
If dreams are only illusion.

They sometimes come true, and whenever they do,
Particularly if they are euphonic,
Our fantasy flights can be filled with delights.
Just like PHIL’s, the humming harmonic.

May 2022 Issue

El Ojo del Lago – Home Page

For more information about Lake Chapala visit: www.chapala.com

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