for those seeking refuge
We saw him one last time before he disappeared
for parts south, having spent all summer under
our porch roof at night where the brick support
columns gave a corner for him to sleep on. Such
faith in us, knowing his vulnerability, risking harm
for shelter, his trust somehow having been earned.
Tired, feathered ball hunkered under one eve
or the other, he was gone every morning before
daybreak at the first notes sung from the treetops,
reappearing most evenings, a small dark being
covering his eyes from the porch light.
We learned to give him space, accommodate
his hours, leave the front door shut while he
slept. The mail could wait until the next day.
And so it was over the long, rainy summer until
the first crisp October dusk he did not return,
the absence of such a small presence suddenly
a vast region within us, our porch emptier
than before he arrived, the sharing of our life
with him having been not a sacrifice, but a blessing.
Matt Hohner
Matt Hohner is an editor for Loch Raven Review. His work has been featured in The Moth, takahe, and New Contrast, among many others. Hohner’s first collection of poetry, Thresholds and Other Poems was published under Apprentice House, 2018, and his forthcoming collection will be published by Salmon Poetry next year. He lives in Baltimore, Maryland.