Feathered Visitors to a Miami Garden
Once they accepted crumbs, but now they wait for banquets
They come, they look. Sometimes they crouch and pounce; sometimes they add something to the ground. These are my opportunistic visitors
In the Enchanted Grove, some visitors come on silent wings, carrying sunlight on powder-thin scales, hovering like small living fragments of flowers that forgot they belonged to the earth. Butterflies, dragonflies, bees do not stay long; they pass through like thoughts, like small reminders that beauty was never meant to be possessed—only noticed. Here, among orchids, vines, and old trees, they are the fair folk of the garden, the real fairies of the air.
