The unique percussion of a solitary woodpecker

carried from woods behind our winter-tight house,

penetrated the insulated bedroom.

Repetition, from distant, familiar surroundings,

woke me with its hollow echo, like

dream-knocking on the door of my conscious mind.

I could see the flesh-pink light of morning through closed eyes.

Real thoughts of day slowly seeped in, dissolving

gossamer images that had visited with sleep.

I lay, quietly absorbing the invasion that drummed me awake.

Rested-senses tuned in, one by one, revealing

time and mood of day.

Not an unhappy way to start another solar-rise.

Perhaps it was my heart that was reminded to wake

to that beat of nature on the gray bark of a dying tree.

With grateful blush of pulsing life,

I envisioned its feathered head

madly-bobbing in the mist of morning.

A simple, sharp instinct had drawn him here.

Nature has always awakened me,

even when awake.