I started the day by rescuing a hummingbird
That had been locked in the atrium all night
And was exhausted from beating
Its wings and head
Against the glass.
It rejected my offer of help last night.
Exhaustion and a cold night made it wiser today.
And freedom is its reward.
And then I walked Moppit, the philosopher dog
While counting the hot-air balloons in the sky.
And took a Pilates class.
And stopped at Buonforno’s for a latte
With Bastoncito de avellanas.
Delicious.
I wrote something funny/mean about Donald Trump
That I do not regret
And something important for a friend
Who is not happy with
The way this world is today
And wants to do something about it.
I gave another friend
Directions to the laundry.
A laundry.
There are so many.
All morning, I said
“Buenos Dias” and “Hola”
To everyone I met and didn’t care
If they returned my smile,
Though nearly everyone does.
And now it is nearly noon.
I could have stopped
At “I started the day by rescuing a hummingbird,”
But I’m glad I didn’t.
Well, I missed the civic and military parade today.

I have never been good with deaths, weddings, baptisms, or birthdays. Even holidays. Christmas always felt designed to highlight my personal ineptitude at selecting presents for people I love but should get to know better.
Something was a little off when Moppit and I reached the Ancha on our walk early this morning. Not a single car was parked on the normally busy thoroughfare that divides Centro from Colonia San Antonio.
What crimes were perpetrated upon society, so heinous that such innocent-looking flowers should be locked behind bars?
The bed of a pickup truck is probably the last place most of us would go looking for art.
Hummingbirds are drawn to the atrium at the top of our stairwell.