Microglossum stellatarum
Hummingbird Hawkmoth
For four hours at least we think we’ve seen
a hummingbird. It hangs by a thrum
of wings above the loaded stamens
of the bougainvillea that clings
to the warmed stone of his mountain villa –
a continent or two away from home.
In Manchester I thumb through the guide
and find a picture of a moth that hovering,
hums and dips its curved proboscis in the neck
of purple flowers. I text him. He doubts,
until he’s googled it himself, inspected
pictures of its ochre wings and silver throat,
its brindled belly fur and bright false eye
– while the moth is graces another sky.
– while the moth is graces another sky.
No comments:
Post a Comment