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?