I like to think that he is you

Though his red crest is unlike your gray curls

And his feathered wing is not like your fragile hands

But he sings and chirps and flutters as he feeds

And it makes me think of you laughing

While we do nothing, waiting for supper

For the night to creep over the house

Like the cat I knew would come out of hiding

Once I had quieted down for bed.

Yes, I do like to think this handsome bird is you

Checking up on me all these years later.

That’s why he’s always here

Because he isn’t just an ordinary bird

He is a visitor who loves me.

Or at least

He is a visitor who reminds me

How much love I still have to give you.