come old age,
when/by then,
we are all patched up…
patched so many times,
in so many places,
in so many ways…
like an old tube in an old tire,
punctured so many times—
patched again and again,
to be able to keep going—
to be able to stay on the road—
to be able to keep journeying on…
in this predicament,
in what sharp contrast
to when we were young—
to when we were new—
how my heart leapt,
how my heartbeat quickened,
when I first saw a hummingbird
appear, out of nowhere, hovering in midair