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in pencil Miller, Charles
Nectar Here it comes humming, a radish of a bird tricked out in tropic feathers, darting, diving, parking in morning air just inches from my ear, and then zipping away to nip some nectar from lemon buds. Then buzzing back beside my ear---in need of some ear wax?
And then it flits to a lowly coffee tree to preen its peacock shawl and hunch its doe-brown back, its claws clinging to a brittle coffee twig. From there it turns its sweet-tooth beak at me, as if to ask, 'Is there any nectar at all in the hulk of that beanpole hair-thatched human?'
Try me! I stand staring, trying to con those folded translucent helio-wings while honey-hungry pupils are fixed on me. But away it bobs, a wing-powered mind winging above our bougainvillea wall.
Come back! Hover by my northern ear, and turn your nectar-needing beak at the inner man!
written in black ink Charles Miller
rest in black ink Tepotzln
Casita Goolen, 10 May 86
2 Juneunderlined
Jack, could this be the 2nd time I answered
your card? Either I'm forgetful or it's just because
I think of you often. I write almost 1,000 words
per day on the New Book, walk, rest, read - the
quiet life. / Lynn & I were married here in '67
and she hopes to join me in one of my chronic visits here.
along right-side margin P.S. Loren? Lark is almost 16
and " my size. Hope someone can read & translate this for you. C