I do not want the hummingbirds to leave

I do not want the sun to dip below the rim of trees

I do not want to hear the news reports tomorrow

or feel the guilt of joy on my birthday the day after

I feel as if there are never enough Septembers

Because I never get the care of self or relaxation right

in this month meant to celebrate

and yet it’s now conflated with the death of dad

and the ever-present dread of school

Both of those conflated with fear of fulfillment and failure

I do not want the hummingbirds to leave

and yet I fret about the singular one who seems to hang on

Does she not know it is time to get moving?

September only lasts so long