I missed the last of the hummingbirds
Some point, last night, perhaps 2 ago
They must have decided ‘here’ was no longer for them,
The lack of vibrancy in the garden
now shows.
The feeders stopped being emptied
The sugar water sits
Unswirled.
The summer stirrings that were inside of me
Change with the changing world.
I wonder if they discussed
with the monarchs,
Regarding their paths south.
Here I am with no ruby-throated-signs of
any hungry mouths.
Perhaps it is the arrival of the Canada geese
Those gargantuan birds in droves
Do the hummers feel there’s not enough space?
Or have they gone to look
For other troves?
Is the sun’s tilt warning them,
The noon hour – no longer overhead.
A cool breeze comes briefly now and
The nuthatches are here instead.
Stashing nuts and seeds
Racing against a sun that is low.
From feeders and flower heads.
Like their squirrel competition,
their caches grow.
A deep winter sleep rests me
Before the underground system roars to life
The sound of dripping sap pulled from the maple’s roots
cuts through the still cold air like a knife.
The snow slinks away from the trunks
In its place, crocus, daffodils, and tulips push through.
Frost will soon be replaced by warmer morning dew.
And as the rain falls, waking the fugitives of snow
The sun returns to encourage gardeners to get outside and sow.
And one day while I’m tending amongst the azaleas and other early blooms
I hear that recognizable buzz.
And I know a summer filled with nectar looms