My heart beat so fast I almost missed her whisper “I’m your cocktail hour.”
The first time I drank her colour, I hovered above her wondering the best way to approach her delicate petals. Finally I dove, and emerged dripping in her juice.
I named her “Flutter”. I siphoned Flutter and her taste stopped my wings from beating and I fell into her again, beak first. I thought Flutter would be angry at me for stealing but she stayed still as I drained her well. I withdrew unharmed.
I flew to the next Flutter and the next. I hovered. I dove. I drank. My wing beats created a gold cloud and its dust covered my wings. At the end of the day I returned to my nest anointed by Fluters love. It happens every day. Aren’t I lucky to be loved by Flutters?
*Anthophilous means 1. Attracted by or living among flowers. 2. Feeding on flowers.