The Hummingbird and Lint–A Poem

I sat on the lawn and looked up from a novel

and saw a green hummingbird flit into the

hole in the house where the dryer discharges heat and lint.

The hummingbird emerged seconds later,

carrying lint, and then,

took a drink from a dripping spigot,

sucked some nectar from the rosemary,

executed all these disparate intricate maneuvers,

like the expert maneuvering

the flitting tavern people make

when they smoke, talk, drink and gamble at the same time.