Hole MakerA Poem by Chase
Darting by the windshield glass,
a blur of life does pass. Its scarlet plume lends older thoughts of galeas past, while its puffed out chest is speckled coffee-dreg black. Chiseled beak for carving wood and threading needles thin, allowing each to within reach and stab their grubby din. It's a pecker of wood, you see and pileated is he. © 2016 Chase |
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1 Review Added on December 30, 2016 Last Updated on December 30, 2016 AuthorChaseStillwater, MNAboutMy name is Chase. I love writing and find solace through it. Feel free to sift through my myriad of words and tell me what you think:) Constructive criticism is welcome! more..Writing
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