Hummingbird

It came suddenly, this chronic thing, the swirling unsteadiness and flickering in my chest
the feeling of breathlessness and the fluttering thing right in the center, the beating of little wings hovering around a feeder then flying away again after I sat. 
So the hummingbird comes back as I stand, and flits away as I sit, and we dance, this hummingbird and I, around the room, sit and stand, sit and stand, and then my brain does a little swirl and the hummingbird and I falter in the dance, leaning off to one side in an awkward arabesque and a clumsy pirouette. 
How strange to have this little bird all day, its wings beating so fast, the waltz through the day, so slowly, yet the wings beat faster.  I dare not try the charleston for fear the wings might implode in a cloud of feathers. 
And so I fight the fear, because this suddenly chronic thing won't kill you,  you just feel a little funny, like there's a beautiful green and scarlet tiny creature, beating it's wings in your heart.