9/15/2020

I have a woodpecker in my treehouse,
He finishes his pounding and bows.
My tongue bids him a friendly farewell,
But I hope he never returns or fares well.

My treehouse of all places!!!
Why won’t he respect my special spaces?
It’s the only tree in this yard, I know,
But when I need peace, it’s where I go.

He stops and knocks where he pleases,
Who cares what he builds, I like when it ceases.
It’s probably a home for his family,
But how could I stand living more unhappily?

Pounding multiplied, sounding terrified,
If this bird seems polite, picture a parasite.
See it from my perspective,
And you’ll understand it’s not subjective.

‘Cause when my peace is destroyed,
With everyone I’m annoyed.
They’re on my permanent bad side,
Made out to be turbulent bad guys.

I’m struggling to bring this metaphor around,
And I’ve gotta leave my answer left unfound.
The tree is my head, its house my mind,
The bird is an ache, that I really do mind.