The winter snows and ice had passed.
Some signs of spring were here at last
He watched through clear unfrosted pane
To see the whirring wings again-
Watching for the hummingbird
The nectar mixedthe feeders hung
A robin's song at last was sung.
He rocked there in his favorite chair
Where flower scents now filled the air-
Waiting for the hummingbird
With ruby throat
And whirring wings
It came one day
What joy it brings
It's empty now-his favorite chair
Rocked only by the soft spring air.
It may have known he wasn't here
The hummer didn't come this year.
I pray here now and I'm alone
Pat's name is etched upon the stone
A shadow skims across the word-