the rains
have returned

as have the parrots
that riot down

the evening streets
this morning

a hummingbird
ash grey

and the size
of a child’s thumb

floating between
the branches

of a flowerless tree
slowly

things have found
their way back

into focus
into some semblance

of routine
and order

but small cracks
and fissures remain

open invitations
for grief

to come
galloping back

(did you really think you would be rid of me so easily?)

(that this would last only a moment?)

(who do you think has been filling your dreams with shadows?)