How comforting and dear are our daily routines, from morning coffee to bedtime tea and the many repeated refrains between.
Watching the sweet hummingbird that takes its evening rest on the thin branch near the feeder, I see that even wild creatures establish cherished routines. This dainty flit comes to sit nearly every evening, even in a light rain, on that same branch.
I watch from the kitchen window as he makes occasional trips to the feeder to sip, then returns to the branch, facing the hill. Silently looking about, he cocks his tiny head to either side, tipping and twisting as he listens and looks. He stays until the day is almost dark, delighting me with his small presence.
I look for him most nights and will miss our shared routine when migration calls him away.
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