by Betty Badgett
Each morning I see him.
Golden yellow hues radiating from his wings.
He hovers over the opening where the sugar water is placed.
He flutters his tiny wings, happy to have found a home,
Even if just for a short time.
He points his long pointy beak and samples the
water I made just for him.
Others flutter around, but he stands guard. No sharing.
This is his sanctuary, his place of refuge, only his.
I caught him staring toward my kitchen window.
He looks, watches me, probably saying thank you in the
only way that he knows how.
Who cares for our earth, our trees and flying little creatures?
God gave them a purpose. If only we cared more.
I watch for my tiny friend every morning. I fill his feeder
With sugar water that I boiled. I’m never disappointed;
he always comes back.
One day Winter will return, where will he go to find the sugar
water?
Who will take my place and provide for him?
Will he come back next year?
Will this planet even be here when he returns?
I watch him flutter around his feeder, guarding his castle. Who
knows
What tomorrow will bring? But for now I have a friend. My heart
Connects with his and we’re both grateful.
 |
| photo by Nancy Rodriguez |
It’s been a long, cold, snowy winter.
Spring awaits on the cusp of the remnants of winter.
Soon spring will take its official place, will settle in for its
season.
With the returning of spring, I can’t help but wonder about my
tiny, fluttering hummingbird that made his home in my back yard
around the orange bird feeder.
He took up residence last spring and stayed through
summer and
well into fall.
What joy he brought to my heart each morning when I gazed out of
my kitchen window. I watched him flutter about, sticking his long beak into the
bird feeder, sampling the sugar water I prepared just for him. Flapping his
perfect wings in thanks.
Looking out my kitchen window, watching him, brought a peace and
tranquility to my sometime chaotic life. For those stolen moments watching him
flutter happily all around that birdfeeder,
I felt that all was right in the world.
I’m starting to hear the familiar sounds of birds chirping in the
trees all around my house. I see a few of them flutter from branch to branch.
I’m waiting for the return of my friend the hummingbird.
Perhaps he did not make it through the long cold winter.
Maybe he found another birdfeeder along his travels to
escape the cold of winter here in the northeast.
I’ll make another batch of sugar water and place it in the
birdfeeder, and maybe, just maybe, I’ll wake up one morning, put on a pot of
coffee, stare outside my kitchen window at the birdfeeder and notice him once
again fluttering his tiny orange wings;,
reclaiming his domain,
restoring peace and tranquility.
