For Gabrielle, age ten

It was the way she drew the wings
in a backswing that charmed me:
poised to scoop forward, in a hover
over the plastic yellow flowers
wreathing the feeder. She got it
right—the tilt, angle, the color
not quite green, but close.
She watched it all morning—
dart forward to sip,
the bold thrust of beak,
fierce and exact.

Then in her
careful hand,
she drew what
she understood—
a bird that never rests,
the iridescence,
heart thrum,
the endless hunger.

Suzanne Frank is a Chicago landscape designer and studies ornithology. She has been published in 10x3 Plus Poetry JournalSow’s EarAnother Chicago Magazine (ACM), Stray Bullets: Anthology of Chicago Saloon Poets and Power Lines (Tia Chucha Press).