The Hummingbird's Story
A quiet moment beneath the morning sun
I wake early - not because I have to, but because I want to.
There’s a warmth I wait for, right before the sky turns gold.
It touches the leaves, the flowers, the edge of the rock where I sleep.
That’s when I know it’s time.
The Sun is rising.
While others stretch and blink slowly into the day, I’m already in motion -
wings humming, heart beating fast, searching for the first open bloom.
I don’t stay still for long.
There’s too much to taste, too much to see.
I sip nectar from red flowers, orange ones, sometimes even deep purple -
and I always remember where they are.
But the sun gives me more than food.
It gives me direction.
It lights my path.
It warms my small body when the morning air is cool.
Without the sun, I couldn’t move like this.
People often say I’m small.
And it’s true - I don’t take up much space.
But I’m strong in ways you can’t always see.
I travel far for my size.
I remember every blossom.
I defend what I love.
And each time the sun rises,
I rise with it.
Because I know every day brings something new -
a flower that wasn’t open yesterday, a path I haven’t flown before.
That’s what the sun means to me.
Not just light, but the start of another chance.
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