Dear Editor,

Then

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

The hummingbird

Now

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.

No hummingbird

I pray here now and I'm alone

Pat's name is etched upon the stone

A shadow skims across the word-

A Hummingbird

Jacque Patrick

Tamaqua