There's a red headed woodpecker,
Tapping on my tree.
Guess he's looking for supper,
That's what it must be.
Knocks three, or four times,
Then digs with his bill.
Then an eye he inclines,
As he looks for his meal.
He flies off with a grub,
Tightly clutched in his beak,
What a wonderful job,
And it's truly unique.
11/15/10 Alton Texas
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem