Nine Hours Poem by Luke Davies

In Studio City the hummingbird
Sucks from the stamens.
The kitchen is silent. Outside, the sky
Of L.A. has been baked of its demons.

The tuberose blooms to remind of tomorrow’s
Petals on the surface of the swimming pool.
The pool wall drops stilts to waiting earthquakes.
Everyone’s off making films today. A kestrel

Hovers. We cannot do great things
But only small things with great love.
To travel is to be still. Then sunset
Highlights tenderly all the flight paths above.