The Ancient Tree Drummer

Free Verse Poetry, Nature Poetry

I hear him.
Making holes again.
Hollow places in dead trees.
He’s very old, you know.
Pterodactyl-like, I think.
With his red crest
bobbing up and down,
he seems so very proud.
Downright cocky, I’d say.
His drilling stops.
Oh, I hear him again!
Those odd cuk wucka sounds he makes.
His mate makes him wait.
I know he’s listening for her.
Finally she returns his call.
His work resumes.
Strange fellow–
that pileated woodpecker.
Feasting on ants and beetles
deep in the old forest,
where there’s plenty of dead wood.
The hollow tree is his drum, you know,
He’s playing a driving beat.
Latin rock, I think.
He’s ancient, you know.
I hope I see him.

First published in Stilling the Waters (2005).

13 thoughts on “The Ancient Tree Drummer

  1. nice one
    reminded how much i miss them
    that drumming has intruded on some pleasant moments in the past 🙂

  2. Thanks Polona and Andrew.

    As Pat said, beautiful birds, but they can cause some trouble, especially to wood frame houses. Flickers are always trying to drill into our house frame.

  3. Thanks jel and Pat.

    Pat, Mary Oliver is from the Cleveland area, and also a favorite poet.

    Jel, welcome back and hope you’re well.

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