The trees are alive with tiny bodies
Bobbing, flickering, fluttering
Pecking at dead leaves
Still hanging in there
Dozens more peck frantically
Amongst the mounds
Of last year’s crop
Rotting on the ground

There’s a woodpecker
Lured by a free meal.
Suet encased in wire
Hanging in the tree
He too breakfasts
Frantically

Why the hurry?
It’s snowing.
They wanna get home
Before lunch.