A smidgen of rain and the cicadas
have fallen silent. In their stead I heard
a pileated woodpecker, followed its call
and caught a glimpse after all these months
considered myself once again quite lucky
only to then spy a pair of indigo buntings
as we came out of the woods.
Double luck on this day oh triple luck
as we must oh we so must count the rain!
Flicker calls loudly raps hard
on someone’s tree trying
to pass itself off as a
pileated woodpecker when
anyone who’s been fooled
a hundred times before (me)
will dismiss it with a quick
roll of the eyes, Oh please.
Why try to be something you’re not?
We all do at some point in time.
The poet says longing and not
knowing are signs of growth
even yearning for what we
cannot name. Soon I will be
quite large.