The Hummingbird Sings the π Song


Running in circles
in a dream about π
I traveled to
the hummingbird muse,

she among
banana peels and fruit flies,
3 meters from hiding places
in elm, mulberry, and willow
that she

might indeed feed
on flowers after
our magic hour.

Her fluttering wings
murmured a song for me
an answer to a question
I hadn’t yet asked.

“How big is π ” I asked.

She stood a moment:
convulsed two wings
oddly flat and still like
outstretched hands

Almost like a fisherman bragging:
THIS BIG.

Oh! I said.
But that’s four centimeters.
TOO BIG.

After a flutter
she stood again:
THIS BIG.

Um.
three centimeters.
TOO SMALL.

Well then I’ll
flutter a song
I call:
Too Big Too Small:
it starts loud and fades away, and
you must tell me when to stop
when I’ve shown you what you want.

How will I know?

It’s your dream
so you’ll know.
Hmmmm.

Hurruph gee
I murmur
many times
though the song
is beautiful

Hmmmmm

It’s fading, and then…
Hmm, I say
“STOP!”

THIS BIG!

The wings were stretched
a smidgen over three centimeters.
But how much?

I don’t know, she said.
Look and listen to the song.
When the music is in your heart
you’ll hear it in the silence.