Another very short bird poem to finish this day. This was written at HMP Hollesley Bay which where I spent several months in “Open” conditions prior to being classed as a “flight risk” and taken to Wandsworth, the waste pipe of the western world, to quote from another of my poems. I used to have to get my lunch every morning from the kitchens – a lunch which consisted of a peanut butter sandwich (on brown bread if I was lucky), a bag of crisps and an apple. I’d then get on a prison bus at 0800 to be taken to the charity shop at Bungay where I worked – a journey that could take one hour forty-five minutes at worst. Some days I ended up with 5 hours work for 3.5 hours of travel, but it was so important to be doing something useful. One day, on my way to the kitchens I found a greater spotted woodpecker by the side of the road which had been hit by a car. Hence this poem.
Woodpecker
There, by the footpath, he lay
Struck by a vehicle in the early morning
Perhaps as that perfect day was dawning
Beyond the daffodils and snowy drops
Displayed, to the world, his bright red head
On a beautiful body, whole but dead
One less maker of that sweetest sound
One less beater of nature’s drum
Replaced (we hope they will come)
By a younger generation
Who will tap the rhythm of their strange Morse code
At the side of this winding, risingroad
But, days later, none could be found
And sadly, none was even heard
That black and white, crimson-headed bird
Never to be seen here again?
A species, in this place, forever lost
Would be, to us, an unmeasurable cost
So as you drive through these woods, take care
For an innocent woodpecker may linger
Be not an abuser of beautiful birds, nor, of death, the bringer
Drive softly for all our nature’s sakes
Listen, as you pass, to the creatures
That, of this place, are its audible features