May Soon

This is about the usual time of the hummingbird's arrival
and you haven't put out the feeder
and you don't know if  you will

Yesterday a mourning dove looked at you through the kitchen window
standing on the rim of a fetid, neglected, black-stained bird bath
half full of brown water and rotting leaves. When?

Don't know yet if I will this year, boys, you said remembering
the single male hummingbird who lived here all Spring and Summer without a mate.
She didn't make the trip for reasons of her own you guess.

This, all again.
You don't think you want to revisit and remember the
beauty or the pain or the long, long, quiet seasons thereafter