In my native village
as long as the sun shines,
Palestinian sunbirds fly through our gardens:
similar to the nomadic hummingbirds,
for they too come round for the nectar.
The sunbirds of Palestine trust our branches,
take their time kissing the flowers in our trees.
They are the size of my eyes
all black and shiny blue-green.
Past them far away over the mountain
I see olive groves glittering in dusty green silver and gray
and across the hill just past the mighty fig tree
precious Palestine stretches before me.