Outside the hospital

I sit, waiting

Crickets chirp

Wind caresses leaves and

Vibratos with a hummingbird's wings

A twirling leaf caught in a web

An ant carrying one of its dead

The sun makes shadows

On the lawn across the street

On which sits a house

With a red door set in pale stone

A birch tree stands guard alone

A car, a bike, a man limping past

I sit, waiting

Hope is the thing with feathers

Or so the poem goes

I agree

For whenever I try to grasp it

It flutters away just out of reach

Yet always in sight