Red crested white-breasted black winged petite

August 3, 2005  (I was 60)

Red crested white-breasted black winged petite

I should but do not know your Hawaiian name

Names of many smaller species echo their calls

so petite would seem to fit the beak

You visit my breakfast each morning

You have come to expect bread

I have made you trust me more each day

tossing bits closer to my chair

so now you venture nearly underfoot

Your sidling dance and angling glance

indicate irritation with gifts offered at risk

You tweeze the crust and prance back

to nibble the edge off a heavy load

then aloft but low above the pool

over oleander into palms along the black bay

where jagged lava breaks the morning surf

I’m told it’s cruel to deceive wild creatures

into reliance upon the hand of man

And in a few weeks I will be gone from here

but I remember you from last year

Expectation takes  the risk of self-deception

Every day adaptability expands

and each remembrance of a small trust

draws us a cautious hop closer