from the middle of April.
I knew it was too early.
It hung there
like a red jewel
reflecting the sun’s rays.
I replenished its strawberry shape
with fresh sweet-water
every few days.
One week into May
I heard the hum of his wings
and saw him in his ruby-throated splendor.
He was the first of many to come -
the expected one -
the harbinger of summer’s migration.
He stopped only for strength
for the journey,
then pressed on further north.
Others will come and stay until September,
when their departure
will herald the coming of winter.
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