Poem: Woodpecker Morning

In the morning,
the woodpeckers are quiet,
sitting expectantly in the treetops
as the sun rises.
Later they will shriek and cackle,
streak between the trees,
and go about their work
with wild glee,
hooting and hammering.
For now though,
they sit and watch,
red heads silhouetted against
a gray-white sky.
Pay attention to the small magics
of your life,
this world.
Tell about them.
Learn from the things
you see and hear,
touch and feel.
Inhale gratitude.
Wait with the woodpeckers
for the rising sun.

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