The Burst

I was watching a fly — a very large one, wasp-like in character, a derivative and surely protective solution — it became trapped in the studio and buzzed against the window, trying to get out. Using I net, I tried to catch it, to release — but I couldn’t get it out. It finally disappeared — and I’ve yet to find it.

And, in the character of insects, the nature of their energy — they will work repeatedly to an action, till they are exhausted. You’ve seen them like this. Bumblebees, sitting there, quietly on a petal. They rest, rebuild their energy, fly anew. There’s a chemical process that rebuilds their energies after exhaustion. Without food, this cycling is not repeated indefinitely.
So too with other things.
Hummingbird came into my space, which was fully opened to the outdoors. I’d found her there, spinning her wings like invisible rotors, trying to get through the glass.
Finally, exhausted, she sat there, quiet. On the sill, contemplating me as I’d contemplate her.
Reaching to her, she tried to flutter — but quickly quieted. I reached to her, held her, and I could feel the vibrations of her heart — the rhythm clear and strong, consistent the beat.
On my finger, then a stick, then gone.
A flash of green gorgeous.

Memories, in moments, found.

TSG | d e c a t u r i s l a n d

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