This poem is based on a dream I had way back in the day.
The Woodpecker
The other night,
I had a dream
That I was standing in my yard,
When I heard the incessant sound,
Of a woodpecker's beak on eighty year old maple.
So I went inside,
And climbed two flights of stairs,
The sound becoming clearer all the while.
And I took my gun in hand, looking across the attic's floor,
And fired to where I thought she was.
But only air, I hit,
And so I reloaded,
Waiting, just waiting, to get that
bird within my sights.
And still she stays there,
Pecking, cutting down the rafters.
That hold my roof, and keep my
Attic from falling in on me.
But never will she stop......
Copyright 2002 Joseph Basile