I filled the feeders
and no sooner had I 
turned my back
upon them that
the downy woodpecker
landed upon one
with me not being more than
a couple of feet away,
not yet even off the mulch
that surrounds them 
in the front yard,
the front walk still
several feet ahead —
the concrete
that I’ve always seen as
demarcation, mine 
versus theirs, and
when I turned back
to watch him, his red
patch bright before me
as he hammered so lightly
upon the seed block,
he did not seem concerned
and I was so honored to be
thus disregarded.

About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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