Every time I walked into the hills behind my house, I heard it. The warm breeze gently nudging the tall grass slowly to one side, and then back. I hear a soft sound emanating from the old telephone pole, which no one notices, behind me. Peck. Peck. Peck.
As the sky nears darkness. My curiosity gives me no choice. I swivel myself around.
Quick as a wink, whatever making the sound on the pole disappeared. All six nights prior to this one, I did not try and greet the new visitor in the neighborhood. Why not now?
I tiptoe over past the telephone pole, and glance up. I see a small bundle of sticks and a bird. A woodpecker. A woodpecker, preparing for a family. This, I realize, is a sign of new life. Spring has sprung. Another chapter in the history of the world.
I made this poem a while ago and dug it up just now. I like it, so I thought I'd put it here.