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October 24, 2001
Dear Mister Hummingbird,

What are you thinking? Hovering a foot from my face. Splashing it with your tiny turbulence. Checking out my red shirt? Eyeing me for a sugary snack? Thinking about stabbing me in the neck with that long beak of yours?

If you weren’t so darn cute, you’d be hated.

Surprising me at your sudden darts and shifts. Buzzing my ears like a crop-duster in a late summer afternoon. Sometimes, just hanging in the air, glaring at me with your beady black eyes. I’ve got a message for you: You’re much uglier than your ruby-throated cousin.

Love, Forrest