I see you, hated stink bug,

Three, six, a dozen,

In your legions you arrive

At this time of year.

You cling to windows and to walls

seeking to share our shelter

While we deny it,

Obsessed with sealing

The ingress points.

While we talk of little else

Of how bad it was last year

Of how we cope,

If we do.

Cold weather will see an end,

No, not an end, just a cease-fire

Till your next awakening.

— Sue Davis Gabbay, Washington

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