I wrote a poem

Who will feed my hummingbirds?


For 35 years


a bird feeder hung outside the patio door


of mom’s modest Michigan townhome


When I’d visit, I’d make sure it was filled


but when I’d leave, I’d worry about the birds


and the squirrel


who precariously balanced on the fence


and the feeder


filling his face


making us laugh


until she’d leave


and the sparrows, robins and the occasional cardinal


would take what was left


which was enough


because of me


and mom


and my brothers and sisters


and mom’s neighbors and friends


who ensured the feast would be there


especially in winter



Mom’s gone now


as is the feeder


I’m sure


because I don’t go there anymore


but now


I have a hummingbird feeder that hangs


outside the patio door of my own modest California townhome


that I keep filled with nectar


until I’m no longer here


like mom


and then


who will feed my hummingbirds?