Archilochus Colubris

by José A. Alcántara

The hummingbirds have arrived,
beating their invisible wings beyond the window
where buds are beginning to break.

They come bearing the light of Panama,
Colombia, Costa Rica, the red fire of the tropics,
here, to this mountain, still spotted in snow.

I go out among them, in my red coat,
hoping they will mistake me for a flower.
They buzz close, hovering before my face.

If only one of them would touch me, I would
sprout feathers and take to the air, my wings
tracing infinity, my throat turning to rubies.

From The Bitten World. Tebot Bach, 2021.
Reprinted with permission.

Read this and other poems by José A. Alcántara in The Bitten World, available for purchase online.

It’s hard not to feel wonder and awe for the migrating birds that finally return to us, “bearing the light” of the faraway places they’ve been. Here, José A. Alcántara, who writes with such deep affection of his connection to the natural world, recounts a moment spent trying to attract the hummingbirds hovering near him, putting on his red coat and hoping, “they will mistake me for a flower.” This poem honors these tiny beings “beating their invisible wings,” with a subtle complexity, revealed through both sound and image. In each stanza, we see shades of the red that defines this particular species of hummingbird, with the “buds beginning to break” in the first stanza, “the red fire of the tropics,” which they recently left, the coat the speaker wears, and then his desire at last to be touched by one of them and have his own throat “turning to rubies,” with no separation anymore between the animal and himself. In this poem, we feel a craving for the touch of some deeper knowledge that these hummingbirds—and all animals—seem to hold, and which we often struggle as humans to access on our own.

Invitation for Writing & Reflection: Think back to a time when you went out and invited some aspect of nature to approach you, without fear or resistance. Did you feel the borders between yourself and that plant or animal finally dissolving? See if you can recapture the moment, bringing the reader with you into that resonant moment of connection.

ABOUT THE POET: José A. Alcántara

José A. Alcántara has worked at the Three Mile Island Nuclear Generating Station, on a fishing boat in Alaska, as a baker in Montana, and as a calculus teacher in Cartagena, Colombia. He is the author of The Bitten World: Poems (Tebot Bach, 2021). His poetry has appeared, or is forthcoming, in American Life in Poetry, Poetry Daily, Ploughshares, Bennington Review, The Southern Review, Poetry Northwest, Beloit Poetry Journal, 32 Poems, Rattle, and the anthologies, The Path to Kindness: Poems of Connection and Joy, and America, We Call Your Name: Poems of Resistance and Resilience. His poem “Divorce” won the 2021 Neil Postman Award for Metaphor from Rattle. José lives in western Colorado and wherever he happens to pitch his tent.

POETRY SELECTION AND COMMENTARY BY JAMES CREWS

James Crews is the author of four collections of poetry: The Book of What Stays, Telling My Father, Bluebird, and Every Waking Moment. He is also the editor of two anthologies: Healing the Divide: Poems of Kindness and Connection and How to Love the World: Poems of Gratitude and Hope. His poems have appeared in Ploughshares, The New Republic, The New York Times Magazine, The Sun, and have been reprinted in Ted Kooser’s American Life in Poetry and featured on Tracy K. Smith’s podcast, The Slowdown. James teaches at SUNY-Albany and lives with his husband in Vermont.

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