About a Woodpecker

 
 
he was wearing little white wings  
and tiny black trousers,  
I wondered about his RPMs;  
peck,   peck,  peck;   woodpecker had power  
every once in a while he would stop,  
 
and dive down below  
to prance on the leaves  
once under the snow,  
round he goes, it was like  
he was smelling the earthen flower,  
 
I could not live without nature,  
and the breeze in those hollowed  
woods filled with my sanctity  
 
freedom & heaven down yonder pass  
by the river’s edge,  
the one that nobody knows  
just how old it is, or how long it will ever last,  
 
he was a wonder like thunder  
and more beautiful than gold,  
that woodpecker was in rapture        
way up high on his living log,  
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red on the head like a dick on a dog.