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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