The Apples in My Orchard

What makes a hole 
In a tree like that?
A bird or insect or
Man with a tool that’s flat?

I’ll give you a clue,
It’s a large bird as big as a crow,
With some red along with black,
Fifteen inches in height or so.

Banging on wood to search for food,
Dead trees in the forest
Serve this purpose for some
But you’ll hear no song chorused.

A songbird it’s not
An endangered life now
Splintered wood, tiny insects 
Will feed him somehow.

The pileated woodpecker
A handsome forest fellow
Winging from stump to stump
With an attitude less than mellow.

When it is time to mate
Dryocopus pileatus needs decay
On trees that in a 
forest no longer sway

A large hole is made in a 
Lone dead tree
For woodpecker eggs and then other
woodland creature that later flee.

What can we do to help this 
Big noisy bird?
Just leave some dead trees in the
Forest, a species death deferred.  

© Draft, Carol Labuzzetta, 2022