It fluttered near my red geranium,
A single hummingbird with dizzy wings,
Hovered for nectar, for what small income
Could be harvested that day.
Now the air sings
With many voices, when a man I didn’t know,
Pulls over by the curb, comes from his truck,
And says he likes my birdfeeders.
“A duck,
‘Came from the town reservoir, a mallow.
‘I couldn’t believe my eyes,”
nor could he,
Asking, “Do you get lots of hummingbirds?
‘My backyard is buzzing with them.” His words
Washed over me. I asked, “How can that be?”
“They like my flowers. We’ve got lots of them.”
“No kidding. Where do you live?”
“Not too far,”
He smiled when I bent down to cut a stem.
“Well, good luck with your ducks!“
Not a half hour
Passed, and I shook my head in disbelief,
Are all the flowers red in his backyard?
I shook my head.
He is off his rocker,
And went inside to make a summer wreath.
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