Poem by Don Thompson

November 3, 2013

I hosed down my house yesterday,
Adjusting the old brass nozzle
Until it sluiced diehard spider webs
From under the highest eaves.
They’ll be back—and the dust
That’s never discouraged.
But this morning the paint glistens
And a hummingbird
Keeps tap-tapping everywhere,
Mistaking my house
For a huge white flower,
Determined to find its nectar.



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