Colour tattoo of a green hummingbird feeding from pink cherry blossom on a branch across a person's upper back.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Hummingbird and cherry blossom on a back

Botanical · Back · Colour · Photo

A green hummingbird with outstretched wings hovers at a branch of pink cherry blossom that curves down the skin, with several petals drifting around it. The flowers and bird are shaded with soft gradients and fine detail, and the branch is drawn in brown with delicate linework. Vivid pinks and greens dominate against the pale skin, and the composition fills the frame from the upper left to the lower centre.

Botanical Realism Back Hummingbird Cherry blossom Branch Petal Flower Bird

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mind the drip off the awning, and sit where I can see your faces, because this is a story for people who have stood in wet weather a long time. It was a Saturday, the rain coming sideways off the river, and the flower stall at the end of Tanner's Row had its tarpaulin sagging like a belly full of water. Old Dorrie Penhale had kept that stall since before the bridge was built, and she swore there was a hummingbird in the back of it, sipping from a branch of blossom that had no business surviving a British March.

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The branch had come in a crate from a nursery in Kent, and nobody had ordered it. Dorrie pinned it to the wall beside the buckets of soaked carnations. Each morning the bird came in under the tarpaulin, green as a bottle held up to the window, and hung at the pink flowers with its wings going so fast you only saw the air shake. Nobody's bird, Dorrie said. A bird that wanted something from a tree in a pot, and got it.

One Saturday a boy came in from the rain asking for a single bloom for his mother, who was leaving on the afternoon train. He had no money, only a cold coin and a wet cap. Dorrie took a cutting from the pot, petals already loosening, and gave it to him for nothing. The bird followed him out into the weather, down past the fish stalls and the shuttered bakery, all the way to the station steps, where it dropped one pink petal onto his shoulder and turned back toward the market.

The petal was still on his coat when the train pulled out, and it was still there, Dorrie always said, when the rain finally stopped.