Have you ever read a beautiful piece? I did a notable piece, once. I remember my eyes tearing up before my mind had even time to wonder why. My body was working through the imagery before any literary analysis could be made. Because I didn't need the literary analysis to know it was poetry--poetry in motion, poetry flying overhead like a hummingbird. Just like the hummingbird Doyle spoke about in his piece--admirable jewels with tiny hearts racing at ten beats per second.
I tack "Joyas Voladoras" to my cork board in the office, as a reminder of my own heart and the weight it carries every day.