Come August

(Photo credit Turner Matthews)

October 5, 2025

Come August

Swathed in crimson & emerald, the hummingbird
returns, again, his delicate, cool tongue sipping
the nectar in preparation for his long journey
ahead. With just a turn of his head,
his glistening gorget changes from red to black
in the shifting light
before he buzzes away, to reappear in a few brief
moments.

The sun sets earlier now, the saffron verbena & purple torenia
beginning to fade while some early leaves
tinged in orange
let go to carpet a path through the woods.
It is time for the hummingbird to leave, flying solitary
along the pathway mapped in memory
beside the Texas coastline or across the Gulf of Mexico,
flying solitary—male, female, young—low by day
to a winter home two thousand miles
away.

In just a few days, my window will be empty,
and I wonder. Where does the resolve to relinquish
come from, where the will to go forward,
to abandon all, to propel gossamer wings
into the wind
and turn?