The sun glared.
Swooping wings above lifted winter residue from my skin below.
A Red-Bellied Woodpecker sang out, startling.
Scarlet cap flashed; feathered skull on fire in the 11 o’clock sun.
His perch near the sun, I envied. What warmth he absorbs from the branch of the aspen.
From my lowly lawn chair, I glared.
Blazing cap swiveled.
Bright black eyes met mine.
Considering the mug of coffee, and book in my lap, he glared.