red

I played with your words. The result wasn't particularly good, but I think this poem needs to be played with somemore by its author if it's going to have a chance to be as lively (and moving) as its subject material. So, here's what I came up with in a very brief edit:

every second

jots itself into his mind

like a love letter

as he gazes through

the dirty glass, at the feeder

where a hummingbird

hovers

in a flash of red

before it disappears

reminding him

of his beloved, her lips

so red and quick

before she passed

If I were to continue, I'd probably focus on replacing the clunky parts with different language, with an emphasis on eliminating words and descriptions that can be inferred, then try to make the context strengthen the inferences.