When hummingbirds sit still
They resemble little old men.
Sleek bald heads of crimson
Nodding this way and that,
Wary of trespassers with wings.

Tiny feet, perched on a branch,
They sway with curiosity,
And ruffle their irridescent wings in the lazy breeze.

Singing old ballroom tunes,
The sounds of a squeaky wheel.

When hummingbirds sit still,
All is well in the world, and
There is time to witness their joy.