Guarding Nectar

By Max Sutton

Like a green minnow on the hover

but unschooled, the hummer

stands alone in air or perches

needle-nosed above the feeder,

his precious half-pint red-as-ruby

globe of sugar water which no male

or mate, no adolescent son or daughter

will ever taste if he can help it – not

this day, not this tail-end of summer.

The world is simple: himself

and the intruders. And the power

of zooming down and chasing off,

of whirring like a swarm of killer bees.

Rule by intimidation. Almost as sweet

as a sip of hoarded nectar.

Maybe sweeter.