I izza frower
The day before yesterday, while walking into work, I was halted by a lovely little life hovering in midair a couple of feet from my face.
This spritely little being, a ruby-throated hummingbird, seemed enthralled with my head. I stood on the path, frozen in awe of the tiny, scale-like feathers. A stunning little male, his vibrant colors were glittering in the sunlight.
As I stood, he dipped closer, well within arm's reach, and moved from one side of my head to the other, and back. Then he buzzed around my head a few times, and hovered directly over me. A family walking the other direction on the path stopped to watch this bizarre display.
The little bird continued his inspection, and I began to realize that my hair, once purple, was now the same burning pink of the Ceba speciosa blossoms that draw so much hummingbird attention. Furthermore, I was next to the place where those magnificent trees grow. Now resting, the great spiky Baobab relatives have no flowers in their arms, but they will soon. I suspect that my feathery buddy was amazed to see his favorite blossoms walking down the path.
As it became clear to the hummingbird that I was not interesting enough to taste, he went on his way.
The two little girls of the family that had stopped to watch were full of Oohs and Aahs and smiles of delight; I even heard a few little comments like, "Did you see that?!" and "How did she do that?!" I felt it was best to keep the little mix-up between my appearance and the flowers to myself; let them think that they have seen magic.