On the loquat

Lying in bed at sunrise, looking through the window and 20 yards farther, I spot him sitting there.

A lone hummingbird on the peak of a loquat tree.

Lone hummingbird  borders on redundancy because a hummingbird will almost always be alone if he has anything to say about it.  Smokin’  love would be the only thing to alter that misanthropic attitude.

Even though my specs still sit on the bedside table, I can see that hummer sitting there through the window 20 yards away.  I later measured the distance.

There is something written in a dusty old tome to the effect that if one sees a hummingbird atop a loquat tree immediately on waking,  life will turn out better than average.

One would prefer this omen earlier in life, but this will surely do.

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(Note: This upbeat item is dedicated to my cyberamigo Ezra in the State of Maine who thinks  The Unseen Moon tends too often toward the grim.)

13 thoughts on “On the loquat”

  1. I’d say “better late, than never” should just about cover your sighting. And, perhaps the little bugger will be back tomorrow and your luck will be twice as good in the future.



  2. Wow, two in a row this morning, but I couldn’t help myself. I was just sitting out on the terraza watching the sunrise over Lake Chapala, and spied a lone hummingbird sitting atop a tree. It wasn’t a Loquat, but since my life has turned out far, far better than average, perhaps the species of tree isn’t quite as important as the old saying specifies. And, of course, it wasn’t immediately upon waking, either, since I’ve been up several hours. But, I’ll not quibble over a few minor details. Thanks for reminding me of the goodness of my life and the smile I get every time I see those little hummingbirds.


    1. Don Cuevas: There is indeed no place like home, and you don’t want to live in the Marbol Hotel. It would be interesting, however, on second thought, as long as you keep your head low.


  3. Dear Felipe,

    How fine of you to dedicate this sweetness to me. I thank you for sharing all your work, and look forward to reading it, grim or not. Best wishes from Maine always.


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