by Tamra Lucid.
I watched a hummingbird die
like a toy with a run down battery
the bird slowed down until
it perched all day on the feeder
stoic and reflective
just outside the kitchen window.
The other hummingbirds
all left him alone
but who could know if they acted
from pity, fear or respect?
What could I do for this bird
who flew by me so slowly
I could have reached out
and caught him in my hand?
How could I comfort the dying
when I knew could not interfere?
I folded up a towel under what I thought
was the hummingbird’s final perch
so immobile he had become.
At least he could land on something soft
not cold hard cement.
The last time I saw him
he was on the perch at night
long after the other birds
had retired into the shadows
of bamboo and ficus trees.
A hummingbird motionless in the dark
is a heart-rending sight.
I watched him try to rev up to fly
twice only to become still.
But the third time he flew away.
He did not come back the next day.