A Second Look


A stump of a palm

once tall and grand,

no fronds to dance and sway,

or decorate her head,



Had shone bright,

outstretched ‘neath heaven’s rays;

dull now, bearing

a gaping wound.



Hollow



but for an echoing sound that says goodbye,

and not hello;

an empty, aching shell

devoid of light.



Barren





Wait!



A flutter of red



*Rat-tat-tat



*Rat-tat-tat-rat-tat



knocking from within the dark cavity.



A woodpecker emerges,

poised at the edge of its nest.



Life,

Shrill cries from within.



Hallow.

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