Drawn Out

Suspended between obligations,
The immaterial hummingbird
Considered the problem of nectar

To nourish awareness in landscapes
Of midwinter’s material snows.
No, that’s not how it’s supposed to go.

There was that flower back in autumn,
Remember? And there was the feeder
Of blown glass hung before the first storm.

No, you’re making those up, you liar.
There’s never been any food for you.
Either you’re nothing or eternal.

An old fashioned cel animator
Made small marks, raised and lowered the cel.