It’s raining, and the English lavender
That emigrated unexpectedly
Into my garden this year
Is glittering with clinging drops of water.
I’m not sure why it chose this spot:
There are several other varieties
Of lavender nearby;
You’d think it would join with them
Instead of hanging with
The also renegade foxglove,
But the hummingbirds,
Who ignore the fancier lavenders,
Love this one, and spend hours
Drinking from all its tiny cups.
I’m not planning to call ICE:
I like having these guys around.
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