A woodpecker in the yard

Is working oh, so hard,

As he races up and down that pole

Pecking here and there

On the pole that is bare,

Old red  shall never reach that goal !

Cuz’ No larva is there

It’s a now futile stare

He perches, listens to humming inside

Finally, He flies away

Into The beautiful day

In suspicion that the pole had ‘lied’…

I myself, am bored

As I look in accord

As Woody pecks away at his goal

Somewhat like a poet,

And keyboard to show it

Jotting poetry, directly from the soul

“Just as futile,” is heard

“As that silly old bird”

Said Jenny as she pecked at her goal

In Receiving rejection

Of beautiful selection

As a woodpecker, on a ‘treated’ pole

Much time and energy

Is Being spent by me,

Sending my creations, far, far a-way

Now, Here I sit content

As I write this lament

Knowing my readers, hear what I say

I found that, all along,

That my rhyming songs

Are meant to be read, by my neighbor

So Morgan County news

Solved all of those blues

I hope and pray they enjoy my labor

Finally figured it out

What life is all about

Although these new values are slanted

Unlike that silly bird

Chasing dreams heard

I Decided to bloom, where I ’m planted!