Does The Hummingbird Know Best? Poem by Mark Heathcote

There's a banquet table
So big, and so, high
It leaves us mindful
That this floor is a pigsty.
Hummingbird on the wind
Flutter; just suspended
Note; not flowers pinned.
Why now then descend?
Their roots are clay-bound
You're caught in the dream
That leaves, hearts, dumfound.
"We can only esteem"
"You believe the flower
Is heavenly, and why not.
When its milky chowder
Propels you; slingshot"
Feeds your every fibre!