Dear woodpecker, is any head as hard as thine?
You who feeds upon a wintry lifeless tree,
Is your head as hardened and foolish as mine?
We are hopeless cousins, you and I,
Who try to find a hearty meal, again and again,
In this world's heartless hardened wood that we climb,
Clamoring up the teasing limbs and frosty lips,
Of weeping willow farewells,
And winter's frozen fingertips.