Joyas Voladoras. They whir, whir like toy helicopters,

spiraling in the summer doldrums, enchanting,

so miniscule, yet they make me seem small.

Some say they hum songs of ancient prayers;

others say they jolt us into doing what needs to be done:

seeking, gathering nectar--whatever that may be.

Jade green, ruby-throated (jewels that fly):

Linger for a spell, that I may hear

what you're saying, what you're singing.

One warm day in early June, you perched

on a fence, inches from my hand--

emeralds and rubies at my fingertips.

A sliver of time captured to carry with me

through what remains of this year.

to store in my treasure-chest

of extraordinary ordinaries.