Great Spotted Woodpecker

Yes, there he was, the livelong day, Content to peck, peck, peck! Without complaint, no thought to say, He'd hurt his poor old neck! Alone, without a single friend, To peck like mad as well, Poor soul, not one to comprehend, About his private hell... I looked upon his plight and sighed, I couldn't help him out! If I approached, instincts would guide And then he'd fly about... So I stood still, accepting this, That some things must be done, My company he wouldn't miss, Despite his lack of fun! So for a while, I watched him there, Just pecking wood away, A little guilty I should stare, Yet it turned out OK... He must have felt he'd done his best, With everything so neat, As if somehow he'd passed God's test, With his hard work complete! Denis Martindale, copyright, January 2014. The poem is based on the magnificent painting by Stephen Gayford called 'Great Spotted Woodpecker'. Find more wildlife poems using Google search for the search phrase Stephen Gayford poetry.