I hear him:
Making holes again.
Hollow places in dead trees.
He’s very old, you know.
Prehistoric!
Pterodactyl-like, I think.
With his red crest
bobbing up and down,
He seems very proud.
Cocky, I’d say.
His drilling stops.
Oh, I hear him.
Odd cuk wucka sounds.
She makes him wait.
I know he’s listening for her.
Finally she returns his call.
His pecking resumes.
Strange fellow–
that pileated woodpecker.
Feasting on ants and beetles
Deep in the old forest,
where there is plenty of dead wood.
The hollow tree is his drum.
He plays a driving beat.
Latin rock, I think.
He’s ancient, you know.
I hope I see him.
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Author: Don Iannone, D.Div.
Biography
Photographer, poet, teacher, complementary medicine provider, interfaith minister, and former economic developer. Holds a Doctorate in Divinity, Master of Divinity, Master of Mind-Body Medicine, and Bachelor of Arts degree in Anthropology. Clinical certifications in Reiki, guided meditation, life purpose coaching, and spiritual counseling. Author of 12 books, including two new books in the contemporary spirituality field. Learn more here.
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Contact Don Iannone by email: diannone@gmail.com
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Poetic Alchemist 
Thank you Mary and Dan for your comments! Old poem with a little reworking.
Ditto!
Ohhhhhhhj so perfect!!!!!
Mary R. Iannone Healthcare Consultant 440 Long Drive Chagrin Falls, Ohio 44023 Ph: 216-312-4034 Email: maryariannone@gmail.com
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