Off and on all day I thought—as I
often do on your very day—perhaps
you’ll make an appearance in a way

I might recognize, and because I’m
paying attention, I won’t miss it—maybe—
because I’m sure I miss a lot of those

moments of you popping in. Though
it wasn’t until close to sunset,
watering the front yard, when I caught

the flicker of orange wings on—
appropriately—the butterfly bush,
a little monarch earnestly working

a purple, cone-shaped flower, then
flitting to another, not minding me
nearby with hose. “Hi, guy,” I said,

the monarch—appropriately—ignoring
me, though I lingered for a good few
minutes watching it work.

You know that I loved to watch you
work—though I’m not saying it was you
or a manifestation of the you I knew—

but it put you in my mind, and I quite
forgot about that visitation until a neighbor
made an unexpected one. Tea in hand,

we sat on the sofa chatting and gazing
out the big window into the falling dark.
“Hummingbird!” she pronounced,

it taking me some time to detect its
tiny form subdued by dusk, whirring
around the orange and yellow lantana

outside the window. And that’s when I
got it—two appearances of orange winged
things in spring, on your birthday.

I can hear you now: “You’re makin’ it up,
Toots.” Yeah, but if I am, I don’t care,
because with that thought, that’s three

times you popped in today, and,
my dearest companion spirit,
I will happily take them.

•••

For Clifford
(and with thanks to Katie O’Rourke, who also popped in
for tea)