All morning
I hear the woodpecker
Rap tapping at some dead tree
Looking for his morning grub
Of bugs buried in the bark
While I’m inside
Pecking at this paper
(That came from a tree)
Looking for my
Morning grub
Of words buried
Somewhere on this page
To feed my hungry poems
And having no success -
How about you bird?
Were you lucky?
Thursday, August 02, 2007
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