BY LAWRENCE HALL

A Station Stop for the Hummingbird Express

Hummingbirds buzz the sugar water buffet

At this junction for the connection to Mexico

I feel I should be wearing a white apron and cap

Refills for everyone—and will that be to go?

No ideological baggage, no bumper stickers

Their maps all drawn for them by an invisible Hand

Their simple duties a transcendent joy

An ancient mission through divine command

Hummingbirds buzz the sugar water buffet

Then with a goodbye to summer they wing away

The Fuel Pump Screen Queen

She’s fresh and lovely on the television screen

Promoting a recipe for a sugar-free treat

And fashion tips for being In The Scene—

Her face on the fuel pump is ever so sweet

She looks so summery in her fashion tee

As gasoline vapors waft through the air

She whispers a makeup hint only to me

And the best techniques for brushing my hair

She speaks to me so charming and nicely

That I forget the fuel dials spinning so pricely

A Burning Bush That Wasn’t 

“Vadam, et videbo visionem hanc magnum, quare non comburatur rubus”

  • Exodus III

I was not herding Jethro’s flocks on Horeb

But merely walking for pleasure along the road

And like Moses I saw a burning light

And turned aside to see what it might be

There with my stick I pushed aside a bush

And beheld, sparkling in the morning sun

Flung into place by some man’s mighty arm

And not decayed or dimmed by weather or time

A beer can

Rain and Gasoline

“Do you like the rain? Or do you think about it much?”

  • Rod McKuen

Shoppers rattle their trolleys to their cars

An unexpected September thunderstorm

Splashes rain on the six-months-hot parking lot

Raising steam and hopes—will autumn ever come?

Thunderings rattle the ground and the air

From the service station up the concrete slope

Gasoline and diesel join the rivulets

In making iridescent the sloshing streams

Sale papers and cigarette ends float free

But only to the drains, not to the sea