I live and work in education, life governed by the passing of semesters.  Spring and Fall breaks notify us that we’re more than half-way through, Finals week is approaching.  March, 2020 — campus closed the week before Spring break.   

November 2020, a poem for Fall break:

The Hummingbird

October feels like March
The color palette veers to insipid green
Fall winds ruffle Earth’s scalp
And comb leaves from the trees
The thyme still blooms
Voluptuous fuchsia cups
That lured the hummingbird
Every summer afternoon

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Once there were dozens
Piercing the throats of thyme blooms
With greedy beaks
Once there were dozens
This summer only one

One hummingbird 
Clad In her emerald breastplate
The lone bright spot in a string of bad news
My psyche set its clock by her
Knowing it was afternoon when she arrived

Spring and summer blurred
But for her visits
Not seen now for days and days
And I miss her

The tune is the same at the masked ball
We pace the minuet 
Burdened with viral load
The jive
The twist
The funeral dirge
The tune is the same month after month

Spirals of ticker tape coiling
Deepening on the dance floor
Snarling and clutching our ankles
Naming those who dropped out of the competition
We step over and around them
Trapped by impending winter

October feels like March
November feels like October
And now the hummingbird is gone
I miss her

Diann Logan is a teacher and writer living in Arvada.