Woodpecker

As winter turns to spring, the Northern Flicker 

Starts to sing 

Claiming the emerald crown of evergreens, his 

Song abounds 

Calling from his needled castle, searching for 

A beetle 

And if he finds his breakfast, sat inside my 

Roof or deck 

I consider it fair recompense, a service 

Paid for theirs 

For birdsong sculpts from wind, a nostalgia of 

Days grown dim