Hummingbirds- The Kissers of Flowers

hummingbird-kissing

The Portuguese word for humming bird is Beija-flor. The direct translation in English is flower-kisser. The mere notion of birds kissing flowers in a harmonic, erotic dance inspired me.

If I were a flower-kisser, I would prance in a sweet dance, from flower to flower sucking on honeyed nectar to get divinely high. Hummingbirds consume twelve times their weight in flower nectar every day. This helps them move at lightning speed and ascend off the ground, into graceful, gleeful flight. Hummingbirds are central to many Native and Shamanic spiritual traditions. They are divine magic revered for their beauty, agility and enchantment.

If I were a flower kisser, I would create swoon-worthy music with my wings to enchant and provoke the flowers. My music would have a slow, soulful sway and an Otis Redding-like tune. My music would make the heart-strings of flowers ache so much that it almost hurt. Love, as we know is the most delicious pain.

elana_flower_kissers

If I were a flower-kisser, I would pick only the prettiest flowers with the longest necks and most colourful plumes that sparkle in the light. I would look for flowers that stand tall and proud, are radiant and are yearning to be tasted. I can always tell the ones who want it. When I hover close to them, they move ever-so-slightly to meet me; they are the ones with the sweetest juice.

I would not be one of those dirty birds that just dives right in without any technique or care. That’s not my style. I would stroke them delicately with my feathered fingers, waiting, lingering, and hoping to be invited in. Touching flower petals is the softest thing in the world. It’s unadulterated sensuality right through the fingertips. I would dance, shimmy and twirl to hypnotize and provoke them. I have the moves and I know how to use them.

Once lured, I would place my sweetened lips on their delicate petals; slowly and methodically making sure that I grace ever part. I would discretely insert my tongue to get the last droplets of juice. That is the way it’s done for the Beija-flors. They don’t use their beaks to suck up the nectar, as science originally thought, but rather use their tongues to lap up the juice. It is a miraculous exchange. Flowers provide me with the nourishment I need to dance my marvelous dance and I help pollinate them. It is a glorious co-evolution and a sexy one at that.

If I was a flower-kisser, I would smooch with wild abandon. I would celebrate the individual fragrances, flavors and colours of each enfolding flower. I would relish my life’s work as a seducer of flowers and lover of life. I would sample the sap from many in search of the one. I know that the perfect flower with the richest essence is out there waiting for me to taste its bounty. I am eager to sip its fruit. 

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The Portuguese word for humming bird is Beija-flor. The direct translation in English is flower-kisser. The mere notion of birds kissing flowers in a harmonic, erotic dance inspired me.

If I were a flower-kisser, I would prance in a sweet dance, from flower to flower sucking on honeyed nectar to get divinely high. Hummingbirds consume twelve times their weight in flower nectar every day. This helps them move at lightning speed and ascend off the ground, into graceful, gleeful flight. Hummingbirds are central to many Native and Shamanic spiritual traditions. They are divine magic revered for their beauty, agility and enchantment.

If I were a flower kisser, I would create swoon-worthy music with my wings to enchant and provoke the flowers. My music would have a slow, soulful sway and an Otis Redding-like tune. My music would make the heart-strings of flowers ache so much that it almost hurt. Love, as we know is the most delicious pain.

elana_flower_kissers

If I were a flower-kisser, I would pick only the prettiest flowers with the longest necks and most colourful plumes that sparkle in the light. I would look for flowers that stand tall and proud, are radiant and are yearning to be tasted. I can always tell the ones who want it. When I hover close to them, they move ever-so-slightly to meet me; they are the ones with the sweetest juice.

I would not be one of those dirty birds that just dives right in without any technique or care. That’s not my style. I would stroke them delicately with my feathered fingers, waiting, lingering, and hoping to be invited in. Touching flower petals is the softest thing in the world. It’s unadulterated sensuality right through the fingertips. I would dance, shimmy and twirl to hypnotize and provoke them. I have the moves and I know how to use them.

Once lured, I would place my sweetened lips on their delicate petals; slowly and methodically making sure that I grace ever part. I would discretely insert my tongue to get the last droplets of juice. That is the way it’s done for the Beija-flors. They don’t use their beaks to suck up the nectar, as science originally thought, but rather use their tongues to lap up the juice. It is a miraculous exchange. Flowers provide me with the nourishment I need to dance my marvelous dance and I help pollinate them. It is a glorious co-evolution and a sexy one at that.

If I was a flower-kisser, I would smooch with wild abandon. I would celebrate the individual fragrances, flavors and colours of each enfolding flower. I would relish my life’s work as a seducer of flowers and lover of life. I would sample the sap from many in search of the one. I know that the perfect flower with the richest essence is out there waiting for me to taste its bounty. I am eager to sip its fruit. 

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