Connor Webb

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Woodpecker tapping on a

tree. Steady rhythm.


I wonder what others

think about the woodpecker.

They like it, or not.


I like it. It fills

me with happiness. Because I

know he is near me.


The tapping ceases.

I’m sure he has a headache.

So he flies away.


His fiery red head,

Wavy black and white stripes, a

crazy illusion.


And then he’s gone towards

the setting sun – it’s stunning

hues brewing together.


I wonder if I’ll

see him drilling on a tree

again. My hope’s strong. 





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