Wednesday, March 2, 2016

sound, silence and a terrible roar, notes

i stopped by the rapids and wrote, "the roar of the rapids is a kind of silence; and the roar of the rapids when one carries the absence of loved ones is yet another kind of silence." then i began to walk again.

still within the engulfment of the roar, i felt, before i heard, the vibrations of a pileated woodpecker. i stopped and watched him.

pitiful rugged winter creature. hungry. left wing damaged. a pluck of feathers threatening to fly off in the wind. either it couldn't hear me or it couldn't care that it heard me. it had invested itself so much in the creation of a hole that it could not afford to leave its work. work and work and work, over and over again. assessing and redetermining its best angle of assault.

i moved on quietly.

and came back quietly some twenty minutes later. to find him still at his work.

sheer perseverance.

would it pay off?

he inserted his head fully into the hole he had created in the tree and looked around. backed out. ratcheted his beak again.

sheer perseverance. desire to live.

pitiful rugged winter creature. hungry. left wing damaged. i saw myself. and quietly moved on.


a different woodpecker, march of last year