woodpeckers

on new years day
we saw a red-headed woodpecker 
out the back window. i'm thankful 
for woodpeckers because anyone
(regardless of bird-spotting ability)
can identify them. i used to
date a birder & i'd only point
out woodpeckers. (& occasionally
blue jays). the woodpeckers have
always liked me too, clinging 
to the ceiling & walls of my bedroom.
i tell it hush when i'm trying to sleep
& let them take whatever they want
from my pantries.
the creature moved his beak like a sewing
machine needle,
sewing the trunk of the tree.
we all watched the woodpecker; 
us five fleshy pink animals getting older
alongside the earth.
the new year stopped feeling
like much to me.
i'm scared to be old enough
that time glides feathered now. 
what i don't tell
everyone else is that i woke up
to the woodpecker perched 
on my chest; red plumage face,
grey talons scratching my skin.
with gold-coin glinting eyes
the bird looked at me
& i asked him 
what he wanted.
the bird just stared.
i cried & told him 
that i was terrified 
of the new year & he paced
my body searching for
a place peck. crawling 
up to my neck he drilled 
for grubs & found nothing
but old jewelry under
my skin. he set earrings 
& necklaces on the nightstand.
pecking between my fingers 
he found rings i had lost 
for years. i told him 
i was thankful for woodpeckers
& he fluttered off
out the window for
us to see all together
out the glass back door.